


Play On

by chantelleida



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, Thranduil - Fandom, Thrandy - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-07 22:12:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3185090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chantelleida/pseuds/chantelleida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm, has been one way for centuries. His cold, desolate nature and arrogance has always commanded the respect of his kingdom and those around it. No one asks why the Elvenking is what he is; the whispers of the past hold the key to the answer.</p>
<p>He loved once.</p>
<p>He loved fully, passionately and without measure. His Queen was great perfection; a wonderful being of light that was a great wife, a great leader, and best, a great mother to his child.</p>
<p>Now, she is no more. The loss was a burden that he could not bear, and so, buried her. All memory lost - even to her son, Legolas. Over time the land has gone to darkness, filth spilling through the forest, and the Kings interest in the space outside of his walls becoming less as each day passes. For Thranduil he lays all emotion dormant within him, unspoken, with full intention to remain so. He has but one purpose left - to lead and protect his Kingdom. To be this way for all time.</p>
<p>But there is one who knows his pain and far more besides, and yet goes on to lead a Kingdom in the light against every trial, sickness and magic put against her.</p>
<p>Her name is Queen Kahlia of Roundruel, and she will change everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Silence

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER  
> I've done my utmost to follow and respect Tolkien's lore while trying to put my own ideas and characters into his enchanting world; it won't be perfect by any means, but the passion is there and I will continue to research and do my best to be as correct as possible without driving myself semi-insane.
> 
> Publishing this has been an awful long time coming, but I'm happy to finally be here. It's my first fic in a very long time and all comments are welcome.
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you all enjoy.
> 
> Chantelle  
> x

The wood was deadly still, bathed in the pure light of the stars. There was beauty to behold even in the death of the forest; there was something strangely sweet in the pained twist of the tree trunks and the whisper in the black leaves beneath his feet. Thranduil walked on in silence, his stride long and powerful, ignoring the guard around him as he did his best to get lost in his surroundings - for his mind to wander away from the nagging pain, even just for a moment.  
Before the last two full moons past he had barely felt at all for hundreds of years, since... and suddenly it flooded back to crowd and curse his thoughts. He did not want to remember her, it did him no good to yearn for her smile, her eyes, the warmth of her hand. He barely recalled the sound of her voice, but two true images remained.

One was of her in this very forest, in a time when it bloomed fully, as green as the shire, sun and warmth encasing the land - their land. She was holding their son, Legolas, and the look she had given him was one he would never forget. Her soft smile, her glowing pale skin and her striking blue eyes captured him, and in no moment had he felt more love for anything. 

The other image was a perfect contrast. She was shaking, clearly losing grip on the world around her, running out of time. The blade had pierced her deep and he wished he had ordered her to stay inside with Legolas instead of asking. Now she lay on the dirt of the forest floor knowing she would never see their son again. She had held his gaze with the terror of her own, and after only a hurried whisper of words between the great King and Queen of Mirkwood, she had passed. The horror of their final moments haunted him.

He had intended and promised eternity when he had married her, his great Queen, his lost love. To face the crown alone was a burden held only by silent suffering. From that moment on, not a word was to be uttered of her ever again. Everything was lost and she was wiped from history and from the life of not only the kingdom, but her child too. It was the only way Thranduil could go on. 

Yet here he was, burning, as if under some great fever. This night would give him no peace, and he failed to see why it was any different than the thousands before it. Under usual circumstance he could push any welling of pain far back beneath his thoughts to sink back into the darkness and suffering from which they came. Tonight, no matter what he had tried, he could not calm and he could not escape. It had caused him enough strain that now he was walking through the ruined and dangerous forests of his kingdom under the cover of darkness as the rest of his world slept.

He could not understand what he felt for the first time in a long time, and it concerned him. There was no place in his world for useless emotion. Day in, day out, there was nothing - and this was the way it had to be since the promise of more had gone with her.

Thranduil sensed a change was coming. Why now, why after all these dormant centuries past would such feeling suddenly swell within him? He could not understand, but he trusted the instinct that had lead this kingdom this far. Quietly he wondered what could be next for him, but fear he did not. The great Lord had faced his ultimate loss and died long since, slowly withdrawing his emotion from all; from his world, his child. Duty was all that kept him from his physical end.

As these thoughts passed through his mind his outward guise remained unmoved. The King walked on and all followed, protecting him silently and some even unseen. Thranduil cut an impressive, powerful form; his long silver robe catching each hint of starlight as he passed beneath the trees, each belonging to him. His expression was as arrogant and as all-seeing as it had ever been, even if inside kinks in his armour were beginning to show that came from a force he did not know. He strode on with purpose, forward, always forward.

All knew he waited for no one.


	2. Queen of Roundruel

The Queen woke to the familiar quiet of her great chambers as conciousness slowly came to her. Before she would allow her eyes to open, she said a short and silent prayer to her father, whom she believed to be listening in the next lands. She prayed for strength to care for her people, wisdom to lead them so long may there light continue, and she prayed for patience, with both her duties and herself.

Emerald eyes opened slowly to the spills of sunlight slipping into her room through a crack in her balcony drapes. Pulling off the white and gold bed cover, lined only with the finest of silks for beauty and wool for warmth, her small feet tested the ground. The marble was cool to the touch, and she welcomed the shock as she stood in her bedclothes and made for the balcony, pulling the lush golden drapes aside to welcome in the light of the day.

Bright sunlight streamed in fully and bathed the Queen of the great kingdom below in its warmth. She breathed deep, still tired, but willing herself to enjoy each moment anew. There was no time for anything but joy in a place such as this.

Roundruel was, and is, a great kingdom, primarily of Elves. You may find the odd Dwarf or two wandering in from the Blue Mountains far behind that create a line to where it ends. This kingdom of Elves sits along the coast, rich in fishing and farming and forests and magic and healing and music and whatever else you could think of to pass the time. The land treated the inhabitants of it very well, and in the generous plenty of the fields and the sea, there was time for the kingdom to thrive in its art, its magic and its army.

Famous throughout the lands of middle earth, Roundruel remains a mystery to most. Not many of any origin ever take the long and dangerous journey to its borders, so few ever see the magnificence, only hear of it. Even more rare is seeing the beautiful Queen of Roundruel herself.

In this moment she took in the seaside vista view from high up on her palace balcony, the kingdom in the full swing of its day. From so high she could not make out faces and few would be able to spot her, but she could hear the marketplace commotion at the heart of her land, as busy as ever. The movement of her world pleased her, she needed the stimulation, required it to survive. 

Three quick knocks were heard against her massive double doors, inscribed with spells of safety and decorated with ancient carvings, created long before her time. 

"Good morning, Galdrien." She said, the soothing, regal tone of her voice kind to her hand maid, her closest companion. 

"My Queen, are you well?" Galdrien took this as a cue to enter as she did every morning, waiting by the door of her ruler obediently, having their routine down to a fine art. She was tall, slight, blonde and a beauty, as all Elves were. Unique to Galdrien was her scar. Maimed as a young Elfling in an accident on her fathers fishing boat, she had lost one of her eyes, a great white scar across where it once was. Naturally her family feared her ruined, her father devastated and heavy with responsibility for her misery, until the healers gave word of her story to the Queen. When she reached maturity, she was given the highest place for an Elven maid in all the land. 

"I am this morn. Bring the servants to do the beds, bring the other maid for my clothes, my hair. Red today, Galdrien. You choose." Her hand maid recognised an especially good mood from the Queen, and took the responsibility of choosing her dress as an honour far above what she deserved.

The great Queen sat on her cushioned stool as maids flooded her room, bowing and readying the perfumed waters and oils, moving swiftly and quietly around her beauty. And what a great beauty she was. Her hair was a deep chestnut brown and came to her waist in a lush natural curl, always lavish and shining, smelling of rose water and glinting with hints of red in the best sunlight. Now a few simple plaits were taken around the sides of her head and a great garnet jewel tucked into where it met at the back of her head. Her eyes were the emerald mentioned before, but they were more than just emerald, they were eyes that looked into you and knew, eyes of the other, eyes of the forest. Her lips were full and opulent, the line of her nose straight and prominent, her profile recognised and revered. The skin of the Queen was luminescent in its pale, untouched beauty, ever inch of it clear but for the slight rings of blue below her powerful eyes. This she covered with powder from her maidens, and none spoke of it.

Soon she was bathed and scented and sweetened, not that the oils could do much to enhance a being already so close to perfection. She dressed in the deep red robe Galdrien had chosen; it was adorned with the best garnet jewels in the land over the bodice and at her long sleeves, an open neck where a simple necklace of yellow gold was placed. She then put on her one special ring with a single white crystal that remained precious to her, and a few ornate bracelets and bangles along her bare forearms. All of her clothes were cut sharply and fitted to perfection, flowing with her movements, set as one with her tall, slim figure. 

"Galdrien," She said quietly, but she was beside her in an instant. The hum of her room faded and the tools and fabrics and baths were taken away and each maid bowed into dismissal. "Bring me a simple breakfast, a few breads, fruits, warm milk. I will dine on the balcony and then set to my day - get the chamber boys ready to open my doors by the afternoon to receive my people. Tell them for some time before supper I will meet with my councillors. You will join me for breakfast now, so bring enough for yourself as well." The Queen gave her orders as naturally and with more kindness than any ruler of any kind throughout the lands, but still, an authority lay in her voice that was unmistakable and never defied. 

"Yes, my Queen. May I have permission to speak, briefly?" Galdrien asked. She dared because she could, a closer relationship with her Queen than any, no other maid risking disapproval or fumble.

The Queen gave a quick nod of her head, a soft spot for her little maid.

"Your beauty is most unmatched my Queen, and I am more than honoured to choose your dress. It is beyond what I deserve." She said, knowing to lie to this great Elf was not possible, knowing that her feeling matched her speech perfectly.

She could not help but smile in response. "Hush, my favourite. Go now, your kind words are noted and never forgotten." Her smile slipped once Galdrien left her room swiftly with a low bow and a quick smile. She took in her figure and face in the long mirror placed before her in the middle of her chambers each day so she could inspect what her maids had done to her dress, her hair, and find joy in the timeless beauty she possessed. She had seen it many times, and although she did not grow old or sick of the view, she knew once there was one with the promise of beauty that would eclipse even her own. The thought held her and was locked away immediately, snapped up as soon as it passed into her strong mind. 

There would be no joy today with thoughts like those. 

\- - - - - - - -

"Are you well, Galdrien?" The Queen asked as her hair was dipped in rose water, her hand maiden careful not to spill a drop on her skin or the marble floors. The drapes were still open and the stars shone brightly over the expanse of black sea before them, winking below at all creatures great and small. The room was lit by candle light and that of a roaring fire at the other end of the room, not needed for its warmth but always lit for the comfort it brought the Queen. The ambient light was soft and she relaxed, grateful for the peace.

"You know I am troubled, my Queen, but the reasons are small." She answered quickly, knowing that lies were not possible to this Elf.

"Tell me." The Queen replied without hesitation, her eyes closed.

Galdrien stiffened, but went on quietly. "There is nothing in particular - today was as usual as those before it and made glad by your kindness. But, some of the maids grew jealous of your favour over me, and..."

"What did they do?" The royal responded, no force added to her voice, its usual calm.

"They just, called me names, my Queen. Said mean things about my scar, my prospects at marriage, silly things. Small things. Not anything for one as great as you to be worried with."

"I will choose what I am concerned with, Galdrien, and I will not tolerate them. Give names to me in the morn, they will be dismissed from my service in the morrow and given work in the market. No family will go hungry in my kingdom, but they will learn humility." She said with the grace and authority of a true ruler.

"Yes, my Queen." Galdrien replied, showing no joy at the result, but the great Queen feeling her guilt without another word needing to be spoken.

"Galdrien, respect will be shown to all at my court, and I will uphold the standards of the Elves that flow within it to that of my fathers. Do not feel guilt for your truth." She spoke as Galdrien tied off the last of her long damp braid with a pink silk ribbon.

"I understand, my Queen, I ask forgiveness for my guilt." 

"Granted." She smiled at her as she stood and made her way to her four poster bed, climbing in like a child, its size massive and enveloping as she tucked herself under the covers. "Go now Galdrien, and sleep well." 

She bowed low to her Queen before blowing each candle out, leaving only the fire roaring in the corner, it's warm amber light coating the room and giving great comfort. The door was shut following another deep bow, and the room settled into silence as the great Queen Kahlia of Roundruel closed her eyes to greet slumber.

It was only an hour past that the screams began.


	3. The Visitor, The Beginning, The Begging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and views, much appreciated.
> 
> There is so much to come - I just gotta sit my butt down and get all of my MILLIONS of notes into chapters! Slowly but surely.
> 
> Loving these characters.
> 
> Enjoy.

Thranduil woke before there is even the smallest stir in his kingdom; for him sleep was an indulgence he visited less now. When he did, he dreamed only of her. In those dreams there would exist nothing but a wish and a want that no one, from wizard to warrior, could grant to him. As she drifted further away he was quick to open his eyes wide and sit up straight in an attempt to push away the misty false-reality. She was wearing her favourite powder-blue gown this time. There was always a detail that lingered that he would rather forget. No one had ever known of the dreams; the last part now that still influenced his every day life. It was a few moments after that she was locked away by the King, not to be thought of again until forced. This is the way it had to be for him to function at all.

His private chambers are vast; situated at the top levels of his kingdom so he may have a view over the forest. The rooms were warm and rich in splendour, varying shades of midnight-blue his colour of choice to decorate the tapestries on the walls and the layered throws on the ornately carved four poster bed. It was a room only fit for Thranduil, the Elvenking. Soon his private servants, privy to his presence within his private chambers came to his room when called to set upon tending to his every need. There is wine, even so early; morning wine to see in a new day in his hidden kingdom. He picked his outfit according to the occasion from his vast wardrobes of only the finest fabrics from all corners of Middle Earth. Today, there is an occasion to dress for. An old friend and ally is coming to visit. For now a simple robe of red like a dark ruby with gold at its base; for the celebrations ahead a robe with a base of shimmering silver, and adorned in emerald green as an ode to his guest and his people.

The kingdom itself was in a bustle of preparation - visitors are few and far between now, so unlike the old days that few remember and those that do are forbidden to speak of. There was an energy of excitement in the air as Thranduil left his chambers and walked through the hall escorted by his trusted servants to his official offices, where all business is conducted and all important work is done by the King. In passing he could see below the wine barrels being wheeled around his kingdom, the laughing faces of his people as food is brought from one end of his world to another, preparing a feast for show as well as to appease hunger. The great hall had so far taken a week to make perfect; at one stage there was fierce argument over the most trivial things, from the candle holders to the decoration of the tables, to which Thranduil thundered over all the organisers within his chamber to have it done to his standard and no less. Not a peep had been heard since.

All bowed low as their Lord passed without a look, maintaining his air of grace and focus as he always did now. All were accustomed, and simply honoured to be in his presence for but a moment. That is the way he demanded it, and so it was. While he was no ruler for small talk, he protected them and led a prosperous Kingdom of which beyond their walls all were in wonder of. The forest was turning more people away from every venturing to the great Kingdom, but Thranduil saw no harm in this. The less outsiders, the better it would be for the future of his Kingdom. His guard thought otherwise, and it was an ongoing conversation that usually ended by the movement of Thranduil's hand in dismissal. 

Now he entered his great office, decorated as lavishly as his own chambers to reflect the wealth and power of his word and will. The room was set to the theme of his own world - greys, silvers, constant and bright. The room itself shivered, as if powdered with the frost his presence could wield if he should wish it. He took his desk and orders the days matter to come forward - a briefing of the evenings affairs by his head planners, the whereabouts and well being of his soon-to-be guests, and the usual every day affairs that he would oversee personally so that order will be official and there can be no argument. Peace and order were paramount within his walls.

The day was long, but Thranduil did not show the strain of fatigue. He was taught well by his father the weakness that lays within it and how you will appear to your people. Soon business is wrapped and no more is to be heard - word has come that the visitors are close. To his chambers he returned, the corridors unusually empty as all were helping to prepare for the night, and then for the week to follow. The show of wealth and wonder he gave his guests would say as much about himself as it does how honoured he was to receive them. Spoil them, basically. In truth, to Thranduil all trivial things were tiresome and he would prefer to never have another visitor again, but he is no fool. Old alliances are to be harboured and treasured like a mother bird to her baby chick - kingdoms can fail and fall without them. 

Dressed with a crown of silver upon his head, Thranduil took the route to the main gate where he would greet his guests in an elaborate fashion. Many have come for the spectacle - lining far above and below the many path ways the criss-cross over and behind entrance to Mirkwood. Each are in their best, his guard in their finery lining the path he walks, set to attention. As he approached, the great gates are opened and trumpets are sounded; Elrond, Lord of Rivendell, stood before him with Thranduil's son, Legolas, at his side. A troop of fifty Elves, soldiers and archers and nobility, was behind them.

"Welcome, Lord Elrond, to my Kingdom. We are honoured to receive you." Thranduil spoke the words in his balanced mix of authority, grace and thunder. His smile came as commanded, but he could truly mean few of them any more. In all honesty he did not mind Elrond, nor harbour any disdain for his kin, it was just that the King of Mirkwood cared for little at all these days.

"We ourselves are honoured, Elvenking, and accept your host gratefully and graciously." Elrond replied, more a smirk than a smile for Thranduil, clearly mystified himself to the over-the-top nature to such public greetings. With those few words music began to play and soon there were cheers and celebrations all round that the guests had arrived safely. In reality, everyone was glad that the real party could begin. Mirkwood was a a wondrous place of magic and the darkness that now surrounded its walls was that of legend now, but one thing was for certain - they could throw a party like no other creatures of Middle Earth. To have attended was true bragging right among the rest of the world.

Elrond walked beside Thranduil closely as the noise and laughter enveloped the huge space, sound echoing and bouncing off of its enormity. "My dear King, how do we find you?" Elrond opened, still smiling for the crowd and waving to those who stared in wonder at his legend. He was favoured and revered among all Elves for his bravery and duty for his kind and them alike. He fought for truth, for freedom and against the darkness, and he had seen what Thranduil had seen too - death and destruction beyond measure. The two grand Lords walked on as those not already on the wine stared on in awe. 

"You find me well, Lord of Rivendell. Such festivities have been planned to keep you and your company busy, and I do truly welcome you to my home." Thranduil gave him a more relaxed smile, not feeling need to wave. His people knew he did not wave.

"While I appreciate your offer, I would rather you and I spend some time mulling over topics and issues, both old and new. The forest..." Elrond began, but was stopped by Thranduil's instant authority, his head like a whip in his direction as the Elvenking cut him short.

"Tomorrow, Elrond. There is time tomorrow, and the days that will follow it." Still they walked as Elrond realised instantly he had hit the nerve he sought to strike. 

"I will worry over you, Thranduil." He replied teasingly, an offer of peace as the doors of the great hall were opened before them to a sea of faces and a drowning of cheers. Both smiled at the people, Elrond's arm raised in greeting once more. Streams of flowers and sparkle filled the hall and the mood was warm in its magic.

"Worry not. Let us feast, instead."


	4. The Healers and The Sickness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time coming, I know. I saw the incredible The Theory of Everything tonight, and the brilliance and persistence of the superb Stephen Hawking more than inspired me to want to work this evening. It's always excuses why I don't sit down and write more often, but all limitations lay within me. These are my choices. Before this film I would have chosen to go to bed when I got home this evening - maybe I would have even put an easy hour into Dragon Age instead of writing. But instead, I have sat down for the last two hours and finished this chapter and have great ideas for the next two. That is the beauty of writing - you just have to DO IT, and everything from that initial push flows on.
> 
> Thank you again for the encouragement, I really do appreciate it.
> 
> Enjoy.

"Galdrien, the doors... Quickly now, my child." Nessa spoke quietly.

Galdrien was on her feet and at the doors to the great chamber in an instant. She lifted the carved piece of wood, adorned and engraved with spells of protection and blessing, and set it through the handles, bolting it tightly shut.

"She is most restless tonight." Chella shook her head as she replied, eyes closed to her Queens muffled screams. Even through the thick walls her cries were undeniable.

"Her doors and windows are shut, Mistress. I took care to them just after she had shut her eyes." Galdrien spoke quietly, her head bowed low, flinching to each chilling shriek. She prayed she would not hear her scream the words tonight.

"Good girl, Galdrien. You are a good girl. Get some rest." Louell said warmly, gesturing to the comfortable bed in the far corner of the room. Here, a large and ornately decorated great room, lived the healers to the Queen of Roundruel. These three Elven woman; Nessa, Chella and Louell, had cared for, watched over and guarded with their lives a young Kahlia. To her they were her eternal protectors and maternal guides. The healers were hand-picked by her father when she was only an Elfling, in response to the sickness. That, they could all remember.

Galdrien chose to sleep in the great room, directly outside of the Queen's chambers, in case there be need of her. Things could take turns for disaster in a moment. Screams could turn into more; she wanted to be there if her Lady should ever call. The healers took notice of this and treated Galdrien as a beloved daughter, making her space in their room and sharing with her the magical and often incredible tales each had to tell.

All four harboured a great love for their Queen, the only ones to know intimately of her sickness, and it's unpredictable nature. In Kahlia's heart existed great pain due to great loss, loss she did not speak of, but that was known well to her people and even better to her healers. Kahlia's story was of tragedy and triumph to her people - but then, they knew nothing of her terrors.

Another great cry shattered the peace, shaking each of them to the bone. Kahlia's voice was rasped and ragged and full of tears. Each prayed it would not turn to begging. Sometimes it would, and Galdrien could not help but shed silent tears of her own on such nights. Now she took to her small but luxurious bed in the far corner, although she knew sleep would not greet her any time soon.

"What do you feel of her aura, Nessa?" Louell asked, sitting beside the large fire place, it's flame roaring on as she looked to her friend. Louell was a slight and sharp, her jet black hair cut to a bob at her shoulders, her face narrow and striking. The elf had been known for her intelligence and mental strength.

"She is all darkness tonight. She must be dreaming of them. Both." Nessa replied, eyes closed and sensing through each cry Kahlia gave. Nessa was the natural leader of the group and most experienced, having practised throughout Middle Earth healing all kinds, and her ability to sense aura and power was unmatched. Her features were softer than that of Louell but just as beautiful, her hair a long and bright auburn, straight and braided at its sides.

"Do we need to see her?" Chella said quietly, the youngest and smallest of the group. Chella had strawberry blonde locks that were most often tied back in a ponytail of soft curls, her face bright with the bluest eyes. Her beauty captured all, outdone by the Queen and only a handful of others. Chella had been chosen all those years ago for her heart. Healing and protection came naturally to the elf, her kindness and compassion of inspiration to her friends - she often referred to them as her sisters. 

None in the land could compare to the ability of this group of healers, their power and prestige highly revered, and their had been many attempts at buying their healing capabilities from rich Lords and even Kings over the years. Hundreds of letters poured into the palace every single week for the great three; asking advice, begging spells of good fortune, offering massive amounts of gold for their affections and services. But no amount of gold could buy the loyalty they harboured for their Queen. She was like a daughter to them, having seen her grow, triumph, fall and try to fix herself. They admired her like none could - for only they knew what she suffered and then what she gave in the day light, never showing a sign of her real pain.

It had been quiet for awhile, only whimpers, but a scream shattered the silence once again. Nessa shook her head at Chella's question.

"Not yet." She said simply, talking a walk to the balcony. She wanted Kahlia to fight it on her own for as long as she could bear. 

Each healer had a large bed in the room, it's space massive, but usually preferred to take a seat in the big armchairs provided for each during the night as they monitored their Queen's struggle. Every night was like this; some a little better, some worse. But each and every night none of them slept. They felt, listened, and cast spells instead.

There were three beats of silence, and then words. "ALLIHAH!" Kahlia screamed into the silence, choking on the word, overwhelmed by the terror of it. Nessa turned quickly to the door.

"She had come to the final too quickly tonight." Chella said quickly, on her feet and at the door to the great chamber. Her fingers brushed over the ornate piece of wood bolting the door, whispering prayer and spell entwined.

"It gets worse, sister." Louell said in a small but passionate voice, looking helplessly to her leader for guidance. "We must slow her down."

"No one fret, the energy does not help her." Nessa replied, but her voice was kind. "She is going through an unusual burst in activity lately. She is troubled by something; restless. We will council her in the morning. She must not hide her thoughts from us."

Galdrien looked on at the great healers, maybe the greatest in the land, as they poured over this one elf. She reflected on how much her father must of loved her, feared for her, to have scoured a land as big as Middle Earth to find them.

Another scream was heard, but this time it shook the doors; the burst of energy shoving violently at the bolt. Chella stop mid-prayer in surprise, but closed her eyes defiantly and carried on. "She is strong in her grief." Nessa said out loud but mostly to herself.

Kahlia, Queen of Roundruel, possessed healers for protection and guidance, but also for the protection of... everyone else. 

A tragedy still barely explained and understood plagued Kahlia from the age of just thirteen; barely a mention in the life of an elf. Born a healthy and bright Eire to the throne of Roundruel, she was the joy of her parents lives. To her father she was especially close, she his precious one, his all and every breathe. He taught her everything, raised her with the values of her people, made her aware of the dangers and the reality of her responsibility. She was made more than just her looks by King Ereth - he played to the strength of her soul, seeing something within his daughter that would ensure the well being of Roundruel would long endure.

In her youth, she grew into a great beauty, dazzling all and drawing each in with her charm, ease and grace. As time passed it was thought her charisma could be more than just good looks - that maybe the Princess possessed the potential for magic. It was at this time she had a fateful meeting with another young elf destined to rule; one who had come to Roundruel with his father and King to visit, but that is a story for another time.

Ereth had forged deep alliances with his fellow Elven kingdoms, and was closest friends with Elrond, Lord of Rivendell, and Oropher, King of the Woodland Realm. All three new the importance of friendship among the kingdoms of Elves. 

Elrond himself took a great interest in the Elfling for her talent to feel and know the intention and emotion of others; a natural ability of hers from birth, honed by the Lord of Rivendell on his visits to Roundruel. Kahlia could know you without you telling her a shred of truth or addressing any subject in particular - from your words, your truth and lies, she could define you with acute accuracy. It was the a fine talent to have within a future Queen and her father delighted in her progress. She was always a quick and eager student and Elrond became a trusted tutor and a dear friend to her.

Having just passed her thirteenth year Elrond suggested that Kahlia travel back with him to Rivendell, so she may see some of the world and experience new tutors and teachings as well as to see if her talent could be developed further. Kahlia was ecstatic, jumping at the chance to leave Roundruel for adventure and change, having not seen beyond the walls of her home land. Ereth was hesitant to lose his greatest prize, even for only a short while, but eventually agreed by Elrond's good council and Kahlia's enthusiasm. He trusted Elrond implicitly to keep her safe.

Was it this fateful decision that changed it all? It is hard to say. Eventually Kahlia would have left the walls on her own accord, her hunger for knowledge and her curiosity too great to be contained for long. All that is known now is what happened next.

Barely half way into the long journey, a swift and sudden illness took Kahlia. No warning was given, no strange persons passed by the camp that night, none visited her tent nor cast any spells against her. Kahlia simply would not wake. But the Princess was restless, as if a deep possession had come upon her. 

None were permitted to be in the tent for fear of their lives. She had hurt her closest maids who had come to her wake her that morning; a mere touch had burned their skin as if acid had seeped from her pores. Strange bursts of energy radiated from her in the midst of what appeared to be her dreaming - she was always troubled, the pain and fear marring her features. Elrond looked on in horror; ordering for the encampment to be made more permanent, for the best healers to come, for her father to be notified. 

The news came to Ereth in the middle of a great banquet. He was on his horse before each detail could be given with a great guard following on in silence. Their King was more than troubled, unable to even fear the worst. He knew he could not bear it.

It was then that Nessa, Chella and Louell were found, members of the guard breaking off and riding on to find the greatest healers possible and to grant any request in turn for their services. Ereth found his daughter drained and still asleep, although she jerked violently upon his arrival, all warning him that she could not be touched or contained. He walked straight to her and placed a kiss upon her forehead; no burn touched him. She was fighting from within.

Time passed, she would not wake. Elrond and Ereth sat at her bedside in silence, but there lay no bad blood between them, only hope. She was still for days at a time, and then suddenly it would shake her all over again. Those she loved could touch her unharmed, any other was not safe to be near her skin. She radiated intense heat and then plummeted to ice, yet still, she breathed on, quiet as a butterfly resting upon a flower. 

Finally, the Elven woman arrived one by one, using each of their strengths to bring her back to the light. After three failed attempts and nights of endless study, potion and enchantment, they broke it, together. She was weak but alive, awake and coherent. The healers would never return home again, Ereth promising them anything for their continued service. Having grown attached to the child's struggle and each knowing her trial had barely began, all agreed and asked little in return.

Kahlia was taken home and nursed to health by the great three. She has not ventured far from the walls Roundruel since. Upon her homecoming Ereth became much more strict on those that entered his town and especially any who came near his prize. As she recovered, she was rarely seen as she had been before. Elrond had returned to Roundruel with them to personally oversee her progress; her sudden sickness had frightened him too. She was a special child, a gifted enchantress and a Princess. Something told him the world needed her in it.

Since, sleep had been the only time the sickness would return. In times of particular stress or emotional pain, the power would spike, and she would not be able to control it. She had never escaped a room nor hurt anyone but the odd maid caught in the wrong place at the wrong time over her many years of life, but she was continually haunted at the possibility. Some nights would be silence, some nights would be violence - that is what Nessa would say. Kahlia worked endlessly to try and exercise some control over it, from meditation to the toughest private military training, but her spikes were all overseen by the truth of her emotion. The one thing she could not choose or control.

Nothing was ever the same again, not since the sickness.

"Alli... Allihah no, don't, DON'T!" Kahlia's desperation was unbearable to listen too. True pain plagued her. 

"Okay, let us see her. Galdrien," Nessa spoke, and Galdrien was at her side in an instant. "Stand guard at this door, and do not be afraid for your Queen, she is most safe. We will calm her. I see your trouble but we have had nights that would laugh at one like this." Nessa smiled at Galdrien who gave a shaky one in return. Even in her years of service, Kahlia's pain did not get easier to hear. It was not fear that she felt, but pity for a Queen so kind to be saturated in such tragic memory.

Chella removed the bolt quickly and followed Nessa with Louell close behind. Galdrien shut the door behind them.

The fire had died down some but still burned low. The light was enough to see the Queen in her bed, misery marring her beautiful features. "My Queen." Nessa sighed to herself, but all three felt it. She was still now. Even the presence of her healers had a calming effect over Kahlia, but the sorrow persisted as another cry built in her throat. Nessa looked at her dear friends each in turn at the took a side of her bed, putting herself at the end.

"Let us begin."


	5. But What of the Forest?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and the continued support.
> 
> Back to Thrandy we go!
> 
> Enjoy.

"Your hospitality, and wine, still more than live up to reputation." Elrond smiled as Thranduil poured him another in an ornately decorated goblet. The great Elven Lords were finally in privacy after days of public feasting and festivities. A quiet moment was welcome for both.

"I am glad to hear you have enjoyed your time in my Kingdom." Thranduil replied sincerely, his impassive mask still on display. The majority of those that ever came into contact with the great Elvenking would swear his calm impenetrable. A fellow Lord knew better.

The fire roared on beside them as Thranduil took a seat near it, across from Elrond. They were in his great office but with the doors now closed to the world. Every maid and servant had been dismissed to beyond earshot. Elrond sighed openly and closed his eyes, relaxing into his chair. It was lush and comfortable and decorated in the silvers and greys of ice. The fire light bounced off it wonderfully; the sparkle mesmerising. Thranduil kept his eyes on the fire, his mind wandering over the days events. The pointlessness of it all. While he enjoyed Elrond's private company, he looked forward to it all being over. He looked forward to being alone again.

"Legolas has grown into a fine Prince, archer, and elf, Thranduil. You should be very proud of him. I find him to be a formidable successor to you - eventually." Elrond teased at the end of his sentence. 

"He has grown into a fine Elf, yes." Thranduil replied.

"You have had all of the hand in that, you know. You must pay yourself more credit. I try to with Arwen. Her mother is gone, I have guided her. It is not easy while also trying to balance and guide an entire Kingdom." Thranduil listened intently to Elrond's words, and the mother of his child immediately played on his mind. Her voice had all but faded from his memory, the defined features of her face had been lost to time. But the feeling of her skin still lingered endlessly on his fingertips, as well as her scent - starlight. It was the only way that he could describe it. The purest kind.

"I had much help. He had the best tutors in his studies, the best archers and warriors in his training. He still has them all at his beck and call. I have merely provided everything he needed."

"Yes, and that is no small feat." Elrond replied, looking over at Thranduil and observing that his usually hard stare had softened slightly. 

"It is not always easy to raise them alone, Thranduil." Elrond replied tentatively. A beat of silence passed, and then their eyes met as Thranduil lifted his gaze, his stare the same as always; powerful, knowing and confident. "I did not raise him alone." He replied, reaching for his wine and taking a slow sip.

"You know what I mean. I miss her mother, all the time." Elrond replied, meaning every word.

"She still lives. You will see her again." Thranduil said, easily on the outside, with cold bitterness to only himself. He would never see his wife again in this life. He doubted very much that he would ever see her again at all.

In the beginning of his tragedy, her death saturated him to the bone. He breathed her, felt her at every step, and when sleep finally met him he dreamed only of her. Worse, of futures that could never be. His desperation was shattering; corrupting his every intention and claiming every moment he had to offer. He knew his kingdom would not be stable with him in such a state. That is when the decision was made - burn her.

For many long years since he still felt her. He swore to himself that he had seen the back of her long and soft blue silk gown float through his passages. That the walls contained her voice and that she would still call for him. He knew he had seen her, in all of her grace and beauty, stand over the crib of their infant son and smile down. Legolas.

Thranduil knew when Legolas blessed them that his wife's world was complete. She utterly adored him, every single moment was special and sweet. He was all to her and Thranduil was proud and overjoyed to have given her such happiness, however short lived. 

He had got rid of everything in the burning. Every scrap of memory in any physical form he could tear out, he did. But the thing that reminded him most of his wife, was the very thing they had created together. The one and only thing he could not part with.

"I hope too." Elrond said after some time, interrupting Thranduil's thoughts. It was welcome as the Elven Lord pushed the emotions away as he always did. 

Elrond looked into the fire, wondering how he could bring the matter of the forest up to its King. He knew the subject would not be entertained for long and that Thranduil would not want to hear it. Still, he felt it was his duty to try. Since arriving his journey through the dangerous forest of Mirkwood had haunted him. He hated to think of a weary traveller passing through it and never coming back out alive. It rotted and sank low as the warm Kingdom he visited still flourished within it; he saw it as a great waste and a direct reflection on how their King saw the rest of the world. He wished to be cut off from it. To slowly break such ties was not in the best interest of the Elves as a people - Elrond was one of the few who still spoke regularly with Thranduil, and still risked visits to his hidden Kingdom. 

Elrond knew too of Thranduil's loss. In the beginning, he had hoped that time would bring him back to himself. While the Elven Lord had never been a great friend to any, he was a well respected, feared and adored King. All Elves held him in high regard. His arrogance was as legendary as his sword, and his power had never been denied. He suited the role of King better than any. But the death of his wife had twisted his mind badly, to where his world stood now; distant, closed and adrift. The Lord of Rivendell knew from here matters could only get worse, and that eventually such isolation would begin to damage the people of Mirkwood as well. It did them no good to be so far from the rest of Middle Earth.

"Great King, as good as your wine, your food and your people are, I believe the forest of Mirkwood suffers. Surely you do not think this a good thing?" Elrond said quietly, with a small smile on his face. 

Thranduil did not leap to defence as Elrond thought he might. "It has seen better days, this is true."

"Could there not be more done to bring it back to its former glory? I remember the days of its lush greenery. A sight to behold." Elrond continued, encouraged by Thranduil's initial reaction.

"There could, but then there would be no people to make my wine, Elrond." Thranduil shifted back in his chair with the only true smile he had known for ages on his face - arrogance.

Elrond smiled but sighed. "Thranduil, there are beasts in that forest. The spiders..."

"Yes, yes, and my guard is defending it. Every day they spread further from my lands." Thranduil said, taking a sip of his wine.

"And onto others? Why not take them at their source?" Elrond replied. "No one passes through these lands any more, you are cut off from the world. I knew days when this forest was bright, full. A place of magic."

Thranduil's smile started to slip slowly. "The lands beyond are not my responsibility to rule or protect. Those Kings can deal with the filth as I have here."

Elrond was disappointed by Thranduil's distance in matters of the world around them. "I remember Legolas playing in that forest. I remember many young Elves enjoying the sun that used to touch the floor of it. People would visit your realm from all around. You are more than your caves, Thranduil."

A nerve had been struck as Thranduil remembered exactly what Elrond described - Legolas, the sunlight, and her. Light itself.

"I am more than most things, Lord of Rivendell." Thranduil shot back. "The forest is being dealt with. Beyond that, I do not know what answers you seek from me, other than to remind me of times you know I..." He paused, unable to refer to her. "Times long past. While I appreciate your concerns, they are misplaced. As for visitors to my realm, I do not miss having open lands for any mere mortal to pass through. I prefer them to stay out." He took a final sip of his wine and stood, to which Elrond joined him, his face impassive.

"My place and my concern is only with my people, Elrond. With my Kingdom. I have kept generations safe within these walls." Thranduil said.

Elrond raised his goblet. "And long may it continue, Elvenking." 

Thranduil nodded gracefully, simmering down slightly. "It will. I must take my leave now Elrond, my rise will be early tomorrow." The bowed slightly to each other, and in a moment the King of Mirkwood, in all of his opulence and beauty, was gone.

Elrond sat back down in his chair, feeling partially defeated. He had hoped he would make some progress with his concerns, but was met by the infamous wall he had feared. From here, and with only days until his return to Rivendell, he did not know where to turn. 

The Lord of Rivendell returned to his guest chambers, pure luxury in the style only the King of Mirkwood could offer. Pale green was the feature colour; all drapes and furnishings were rich and soft to the touch. Here Elrond had a view of the great forest. Looking out on it's tree tops for miles, it appeared calm in the light of the moon and stars. What a different tale the forest floor would tell. As he removed his outer robe of light brown and gold, he saw a letter had been placed on the bottom corner of his beautifully adorned bed. On the front was written, "My dearest Lord Elrond." He turned the letter over with a smile, and what followed were the words, "Your friend, Queen K".

As his smile grew, the thought stuck him suddenly - there was hope yet. Inspiration filled him instantly as the thoughts continued to flow. Kahlia. 

The Queen of Roundruel was the perfect leader, despite and perhaps because of her great tragedies. She had suffered much and yet still remained amongst the most feared and beloved rulers in all of Middle Earth. Her kindness, her strength and her power was that of legend. He knew her to be the most wonderful of all souls and in her he saw the light Thranduil could only benefit from. He would see a kindred spirit in her, respect the loss she had faced and that he too knew well. They had to be reunited. 

Not only would Thranduil be better for it, but Kahlia too. It had been many ages since her sickness, and after years of visits and letters in which she expressed her desperate wish to see the world, now could be the time. First, she could come to Mirkwood and plant some seed of hope within the King while being able to see the Kingdom she had before only dreamed of, and then come to him in Rivendell, where they could finally feast together in his Kingdom and delight in her triumph.

Elrond searched for a negative, but he could not find one. He was overjoyed. He began a letter back to Kahlia immediately without even reading the one she had sent, detailing his wish for her to visit Mirkwood very soon, and why. He was happy that Kahlia would finally have her deepest wishes granted. 

You see, Elrond did not know that Kahlia's sickness had persisted over time. He knew nothing of her night terrors, the fits that still plagued her as she slept - she had been careful over the years to keep her nights from him. He did not know that behind her kindness lay the deepest pain that had not subsided since the days it claimed her every moment. Since the loss of her family. 

Kahlia knew a pain that could be even greater than what Thranduil suffered.

The loss of a child.


	6. The Sea That Rolled On Into The Unknown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and apologies on the delay - I'm doing make-up for a theatre production on top of my full time job at the moment so time is very precious, but writing this story is always a joy.
> 
> Enjoy.

The sun shone brightly over the Kingdom of Roundruel, and especially favoured its Queen. Warmth and light seemed to follow her wherever she went. If you had seen her the night before, as her healers had, you would not recognise the picture she so effortlessly painted. Kahlia had become a master of disguise without choice.

While Kahlia was untouchable in most regards and had been since birth; she had always made a point of being seen and heard by the people of her Kingdom. They would know her face and hear her word spoken by her own mouth and not a messenger whenever possible. She was always eager to meet those that kept her great palace in order and her people well fed, and it was the sincerity that radiated from the Queen of Roundruel that had her world in awe. Genuinely, their lives, their stories and their concerns were of not just interest, but concern to her. She sought to help those deserving by their hearts and their hard work.

Now she walked along the dock with her faithful maid at her side. Galdrien followed just behind Kahlia as she spoke. "Are we not so blessed to live in such a masterpiece?" The Queen marvelled as her eyes roamed over the familiar docks that she had passed each day as a child, following her beloved father on his duties.

"Roundruel is a wonderful place, my Queen." Galdrien replied quietly. Before Kahlia walked a small guard, beside her too. Behind her followed a scattering of maids and more guards. It had been this way since she was small. Even at home, danger was always a possibility. Kahlia did not know of any enemies she may possess, keeping good company with her neighbouring Dwarves in the mountains and her hobbit neighbours over the other side, but not all loved Elves. A pretty price would be set on her head for such good lands. Thankfully, she had one of the strongest armies at her disposal thanks to the hard work of her late father, and late husband. 

The thought came, bringing the familiar wave of emptiness, and passed through. She had long accepted grief as her constant companion. How could it not, when she existed in a world drenched with the memory of those she loved? There was no escape, only endurance. And endure she would.

"We dine well today, Galdrien. You may sit with me." Kahlia spoke without looking at Galdrien, smiling and waving to the Elven men aboard great Elvish vessels destined for sea and, all willing, a generous catch.

"Thank you, my Queen. We are blessed by your generosity." Galdrien replied as they reached the grassy area just past the docks. Here provided a perfect view of the ships departing and the ocean beyond. Already set up was a sweet marquee, decorated in shades of yellow and the brightest stripes of white. Sunflowers as big as your head were arranged in large bouquets outside the opening. Kahlia nodded to the guards at the door as they bowed low to their Queen, and then they were inside. The stripes of yellow and white flowed from the centre of the ceiling and down the walls, and a handful of tables were set, lined with the most decadent of pastries, wines and sweets. Her cooks could bring any to their knees with their skill. Kahlia knew it would taste, impossibly, even better than it looked. Beside the tables the entire marquee wall was gone, revealing the stunning view for all to enjoy. The Queen sat on her throne at the middle table, her seat facing the divine vista, the sea that rolled on into the unknown. Kahlia loved such sights. 

All arranged themselves and waited respectfully for their Queen to take her place, and then followed her a beat after as she sat. To her right sat Galdrien, and to her left the head of her personal guard and the Kingdoms army, Ellieth. Ellieth was a powerful warrior and dear friend to Kahlia, a mane of straight white blonde hair cut at shoulder length met with striking, sharp features. He had trained underneath Kahlia's late husband, and had easily become his personal favourite for his hard work, strength and nature. Ellieth was destined to take the place of her husband should there ever be need. Sadly, for all involved, the day had come too soon.

Beyond her closest companions came her various advisers, usually Elven men that had been close to her father and who she also kept close out of respect and for their wisdom, and a few chosen ladies to make up the end of the table. Once settled, Kahlia gave a wave to allow the music to begin, and so did the feasting as well to the cheer of those present; ladies and lords, friends of her family line, distant relations, cousins, courtiers and so on. The Queen treated all with the grace she had been taught as a child, but she knew easily friend from foe. Since being on essentially her own in rule for many years, she had kept her circle closed and close, narrowing down who was worth having in her kingdom. She was popular with the people for employing the youth of her lands in her court; from her ladies to the servant boys in her halls.

"And how does our force keep, Ellieth? I am overdue to visit and see the young of our kingdom being trained to protect it." Kahlia said as Galdrien poured her wine carefully. 

"All is well, my Queen. We would be honoured at your visit, any time. You know this." Ellieth smiled at her with ease, old friends. They had known each other since childhood. He had a different way with her than the rest of her guard, servants and even ladies did. She allowed it, appreciating his loyalty and the fun of having one close enough to speak with honestly. "How do you yourself keep, my Lady?" 

In private, he could call her Kahlia, but on a stage such as this with ears all around formality came first without question. "I keep fine, good even. I feel as fortunate as I ever have to rule over a kingdom so blessed." Kahlia sipped her wine and gestured for Galdrien to eat, as her maid always waited for her to begin before enjoying anything herself. "Eat, Galdrien. I am still some what full from breakfast, but I will have something soon." 

Ellieth gave her a concerned but comical look, causing Kahlia to smile. "Do not scald me with your eyebrow, Ellieth. You remind me of my mother." At those words he gave a great, cheerful laugh and all clapped and cheered, not knowing what made the Queen smile, but played along any way. Kahlia laughed with them.

"My Queen," A small voice slipped around the back of her throne, causing her to turn to see a small servant boy with a letter in his hand. "I was told to bring this immediately for you. The messenger had barely come off his horse." The great Queen looked to his quivering hand and immediately smiled, beaming with the joy of the sight.

"See that the messenger is fed and treated well, young one. The ink must still be fresh for it to have come back to me so soon. He must have been in Mirkwood, as I had hoped. Good boy, my darling, do not shake, what a fine and proud job you have done." Kahlia took the letter from his hand and placed hers over his, smiling at him. He was barely out of single digits. "Go now, with my blessing." He bowed as low as he could, blushing, and was out of sight as quickly as he had come.

Galdrien looked at Kahlia and smiled, the scars over her eyes creasing with the movement. "Elrond!" The Queen proclaimed to her, just between the two of them. Of course it was noticed by all that a letter from the great Elven lord had come for her; it was the only mail that ever came directly to her hand wherever she was in the kingdom by her own order. The only other letter that would find her with such urgency would be word and warning of war.

But now Kahlia beamed, for her dearest friend had tales to tell her, and she missed him fiercely. More than ever she desired to see beyond this beautiful kingdom to lands beyond, and while usually such emotions and desires could be repressed, for now they remained strong in her mind. She longed for an adventure.

"I wish to read this immediately," She announced to her table, standing as she spoke. They all stood with her gracefully, and so followed all those present. "Feast on, my dear people. I will return in haste." All smiled and took back their seats as Galdrien moved to follow Kahlia. "No, stay here and eat, I starve you Elfling." She teased to which Galdrien smiled. "I will be only outside the marquee." 

The Queen took her leave of the space, exiting the opening in which she came and turning toward the sea. There sat a great tree, older than her and her late father combined, its branches twisted and turned toward the ground. But its leaves shone on, the brightest and most lively green, as lush as the grass of the Shire. Kahlia took a seat on the small bench beneath it, a silk pillow placed on it when the servants saw her exit the room. Carefully she looked at her letter, marvelling at what joy a simple piece of parchment could bring her. Breaking the seal, the crest of Elrond's house upon it, she unfolded it and read on with eager eyes.

It read;

"My dear Queen, Princess, and Friend, I write to you with great haste. Seeing your letter arrive to me in Mirkwood, reading your name on the page, a burst of inspiration has come over me - I believe wholeheartedly that it is time for you to see the world.

As you know I have been in Mirkwood, in the company of the Elvenking. He has kept me well and spoiled me and my people with endless festivities, as any would expect of a place such as this. The people are jolly, but I fear their drink may mask their worry, and worse still, that their fear or even their ignorance is keeping them from dealing truly with the danger closing in on this great Kingdom. 

The lands are dying; long over run with scum and spider alike. We were met by the King's guard at the beginning of the forest to guide and protect us, and the sight was both alarming and painful. I wondered how it had come to this, but seeing the King's reaction to my failed attempts at providing aid and guidance have enlightened me some.

I believe that it would be of great service to the King of Mirkwood, to Thranduil, that you visit him. He needs guidance, and there is only one I can think of that he will listen too. I believe he is shutting down. Long years of ruling alone after the death of his beloved have left him lost and fading, and this is reflected in the land he rules over. 

I believe in you, my dear Kahlia. I know your hunger for adventure, to see a world beyond your own, and I think this is the path you must take. Come to Mirkwood, plant a seed of hope in whatever way your wise mind thinks is best, and then come to me in Rivendell where you will be greeted as dear friend, honoured guest and beloved Queen. Here, you will be home.

I will await your answer here in Mirkwood, and advise the King on my departure if you choose to visit him. Only good will come of it.

Take care, be well, keep safe.  
Your friend,  
Elrond"

Kahlia held the parchment with shaking hands. Her whole life she had kept herself reserved publicly, demure in nature, but she commanded respect and admiration was easily given to one so kind and graceful. Though now, the words on the page had shaken her to the bone. Her excitement bubbled at the surface; this was it. She had prayed to all and any that would listen for a way to see the world, to one day be free, when the time was right. The Queen had been so restless for so long, plagued by her demons each night and committed to her duties each day. While she loved Roundruel, her Father's land, her home - there was more. Middle Earth was a vast place, filled with wonders that she needed to see, not just hear about in story and song. She never wanted Roundruel to become her prison; she had suffered enough. It was time to go.

Reading over it again, her mind turned to Thranduil. It had been many years since they had met as Elflings, and she heard of him only to say that the forest of Mirkwood was quickly becoming a road far less travelled, and eventually, not used at all. She had pitied him when news was brought that his wife had been lost and all for him had changed, but with a babe in her arms to take care of at the time it had been no more than fleeting gossip in a land so far from Mirkwood. Now, it struck her just how similar their stories were. 

Kahlia was not sure how she could help the Elvenking or if he would even listen to her, but she trusted in the long legend of her life that was told up and down Middle Earth and especially among the Elves. The Queen knew she was mystery to them, having never shown her face outside her own Kingdom since the sickness had changed her. Some especially far from Roundruel believed she did not exist at all. Most thought her a witch, a healer, a demon or just an Elfling that had a simple sickness. Those fortunate enough to have traded in Roundruel told different tales; that she was impossibly beautiful, that her lands were the richest in all the world and that her Elves were the happiest creatures in Middle Earth. Depending what tavern you entered and what stranger you stumbled across, the story would always be different. But one thing rang true about Queen Kahlia and Roundruel alike - respect. Her father and husband alike had fought many hard battles, and achieved much for their homeland, and it was legend that she kept it prospering now that they were both gone. Roundruel was strong. Kahlia was mystery.

Well, she could only but try. The reality set in as she thought to her council with her healers this afternoon. The Queen could do as she pleased, without a shadow of doubt - she knew her power, that at any time she could have left these walls. But she longed for their blessing, for their help and their trust that she could do this without harming herself or any other. She would need them for this to work.

Full of enthusiasm, Kahlia was once again on her feet and back to the marquee where all stood and applauded her entrance. She smiled confidently and remained unchanged - none could yet know what she planned and hoped for. It would be a huge shift for her Kingdom for their Queen to go away, because she never had before. There would be whispers of her past, fear for her soul, concern over her well being and what it would mean for Roundruel while she was gone. Still, she would leave it in capable hands and did not plan for the journey to take too long.

Taking her seat again, Elrond's words ticked over in her mind as she tucked the letter safely away.

"...it is time for you to see the world."


	7. Her Whole Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long time coming, I know! All I can say is thank you for your patience and for all of the kudos and kind words given to me - it is because of you I continue to publish at my own snails pace. Same excuses - life! But a slightly less busy life for at least the next week, so I should have more time for Thranduil and Kahlia in the days to come. I love these characters dearly, and even if I'm not submitting as often as I would like, I am constantly mapping out their story, twisting and changing things as new ideas and challenges and emotions come about. So much to come for our King and Queen! In the mean time, enjoy this Thrandy chapter - I know you've missed him as much as I have! 
> 
> xoxo C

"Forgive me any embarrassment I have caused myself in your presence, Thranduil. I speak too eagerly sometimes." Elrond smiled over at the Elvenking, making light of the situation that had occurred the night before. 

"There is nothing to forgive. I appreciate your concern for the well being of my Kingdom, and myself. But you need not trouble yourself with problems that do not exist, old friend." Thranduil replied. A robe of dark grey, like ancient stone, fell from his shoulders and glistened with the hint of a precious gem at his neck; an aquamarine so close to the colour of his eyes that the sight was mesmerising. Elves were renowned for their beauty, still, Thranduil stood above them easily. Many brave young maidens had tried with of all the wit, cunning and grace they possessed to court the King with promises of pleasure and eternal devotion - not once had it done more than capture his attention for a fleeting moment. Some Eleven girls called him cruel, others said he had impossible standards, but most believed he was still in love with the late Queen. With her memory, anyway.

The two Elven lords walked the gardens at the heart of Mirkwood. They had been made private the moment Thranduil decided they would visit and all were cleared out but for those that worked to make the luscious beauty grow as it did. Flowers of every colour, as deep and rich as could be possible, were on full display for the enjoyment of the people. The space was vast; full to the brim with bushes, fruit trees, flowers, blossoms and herbs in full bloom. The vines climbed up to the ceiling of the great chambers, the wealth of vegetation spreading and reaching for everything it could touch. It grew in such plenty by the combined magic of a few special Elves, and the hard work and dedication of many. It was its own world within the cavernous walls of Mirkwood. A great pity that such magic was so overwhelmed in the forest outside, so much so that all attempts at rebirth of the land had failed. 

"Did you rest well?" Elrond asked Thranduil as he took in the beauty that surrounded them, admiring the space. You felt there as if you could walk on for days. 

Thranduil thought back to the night he had before, and of course, all that came to mind was emptiness of his bed and the last scraps of memory he held onto from his dreams of her. It was the only way her saw her face any more, and even then it was only a blur. It paled in comparison from the reality of her skin, her hair, her warmth... "I did. I always do." Thranduil spoke calmly, once again pushing away the thoughts that would visit him this evening, and every evening to come. "And you, Elrond?"

"Well, I had a gift waiting for me when I returned to my rooms, and it filled me with much joy." Elrond replied as Thranduil took a seat beneath an ancient tree still full of life - it's towering figure bloomed with rich, oversized flowers of blue and yellow. It was the King's favourite. "A letter," Elrond continued, taking in the beauty of the central courtyard they had come across and the magnificent frame of the tree above before seating himself as well. "From my dear Kahlia."

The words could not help but peak Thranduil's interest. Kahlia's name was spoken in mere whispers at bed time in his kingdom; she did not exist in flesh and form to his people, and although he knew better, he let them tell their tall tales. In truth, he did not even know himself the extent of what was true and what was not about the Queen of Roundruel. She was shrouded in mystery, nothing more than an excellent tale to tell at fireside, over wine, or to young Elflings to either scare or excite. 

"I did not know you spoke." Thranduil said, knowing little of their friendship. It had been many years since the Queens name had been spoken by any that mattered to him.

"I don't speak of her to many, Thranduil. You can understand why." Elrond spoke. Both knew that spread and confirmed word of Kahlia from Kings could be negative if it were to fall into the wrong hands. Although some ventured to her lands and found her paradise, most creatures of Middle Earth were content as they were, and it suited Roundruel better this way.

Thranduil watched as Elrond still took in the lush beauty engulfing them in this moment. "How long have you kept in touch?"

"Her whole life. You have heard of her sickness, of course? I suspect your father would have told you." 

"Many years ago, yes." Thranduil replied, having been but an Elfling himself when word had been received to his father, and in turn to him. It was then all but confirmed that the Prince and Princess of allied worlds would not be meeting again any time soon. "But I have heard little more than gossip and rumour ever since."

"She was under my protection when it happened; on the roads to Rivendell." Elrond said, clearly a heavy burden, a memory that stayed close to his heart. The look on King Ereth's face when he had arrived in that tent was an image he would never forget, being a father himself. "Anyway, of course she survived and I have taken it upon myself to help her and give good council whenever she may need it. She had grown to be a wonderful Queen. She is strong, beautiful, and humble; beloved to her people beyond even those before her."

"I am glad to hear it, Elrond." Thranduil replied, the news still fascinating him - to know that the Kingdom he had once seen with his own eyes in all of it's glory still remained, and the child he had met in both ceremony and in the relaxed settings of private chambers still lived on. "And what of her King?"

Even though it was slight, Thranduil noticed immediately the change in mood. "I am sad to say that he is no more, Thranduil." Elrond replied, knowing the deep effect it had on Kahlia, and moved by the loss he had suffered himself. Kahlia's husband was a fine Elf, a gracious King, a fierce warrior, and most of all, husband and father of the highest quality. The love he possessed for his family was what he had, in the end, lost his life for.

Thranduil's mood dropped at the words, the similarities between them impossible to ignore. Knowing her loss brought fresh memories of his own. Although the King felt rarely, here, his sympathy was strong and genuine for her. "I am sorry to hear it." He spoke, his voice still level as ever.

"She would graciously accept your condolences, and offer the same. She knows your world as you know hers, and no one else can lay the same claim."

"No one else would want to." Thranduil replied, casting his eyes over the colour surrounding them. 

Elrond continued on, having now planted the seed. "You met her once?"

"I did. My father took us on the long journey to Roundruel when I was but a boy, no more than twelve. She was the same age. I suspected that we were to be betrothed at some stage, this first meeting to test the waters, but my father would always deny it." Thranduil started, remembering the beauty of the ocean, the endless coastline so different from the caves he called home. "When we first arrived it was all terribly formal, a tedious task for both of us, I could tell."

"It's interesting how much you remember from a time so long ago. What did you think of her?" Elrond replied.

"Well, it would be ridiculous to deny her beauty. It shocked me, and even my father. Princess Kahlia was impressive in all respects; her etiquette, her attitude, her words, her dancing... King Ereth knew it, of course, and revelled in his prize, knowing full well her worth. It was not until I got to speak to her, away from the eyes of the court, that I found her to be a child, as I was. She was charming and funny and never had to try very hard." Thranduil smirked at the memory, not having brought such thoughts to his mind for a long time. "A great Princess in the making to be a perfect Queen. Anyway, the trip was worth it in the end, and we left with every intention of returning in the years to come. Of course, word of her sickness reached as not even a year later, and we did not speak of her much at all after that."

"Ereth hid her away. I do not know, even in hindsight, if it was the right thing to do. I suppose he only did what a loving father thought best for his daughter." Elrond spoke, standing again and walking absent-mindedly amongst the flowers surrounding where Thranduil sat.

"What of her sickness? If I may ask." Thranduil said. 

"You would have heard of the three great healers?" Elrond asked. The Elvenking nodded in response. "They saved her, and have been at her side ever since. A terrible wave of terrors came over her, a curse I have never found words to properly describe, not in all these years since. She was burning to the touch, powerful in her lack of conciousness... deadly. The healers have studied her, and successfully kept her symptoms under control each time they have spiked. It has never been so bad as it was the first time." Silence hung in the air as Thranduil tried to imagine the smiling beauty he had met in such a twisted agony. "She has been effected deeply by each death that has plagued her over her lifetime. Such pain seems to make the effects of her sickness stronger, but the healers have aided in such times of need. It has been a long time since such measures were necessary, and now she leads a strong kingdom with the grace only Kahlia could."

"You are very fond of her, Elrond." Thranduil observed. Elrond spoke without looking up from the delicate blue rose he was inspecting. 

"I think of her as my own daughter, especially since the passing of her father Ereth, whom she adored over all. She looks to me for guidance and sometimes reassurance, both of which I am happy to give. I have seen her at her worst, and to know how far she has come against all that she has faced - to say that I am proud is an understatement, Elevenking. She is worthy of all the whispers of her greatness, and more besides." Elrond looked over to Thranduil and smiled. 

He stood and walked over to the Lord of Rivendell as they continued their walk, taking a new path. "How does she keep now? You say that Roundruel is strong."

"Strong and prosperous, lush and stunning - her people are happiest in the land, I suspect even more than in my own." Elrond joked. "She has kept a tight grip on things since taking over full responsibilities from her father, and then alone with the passing of her husband. Kahlia's gift is understanding her people, the knowledge passed onto her by Ereth himself. She is beloved, with good reason." 

"You know that she is feared by some in these lands, Elrond. Parents tell their Elflings stories of her powers to get them to do their chores. Those same parents are secretly scared of the stories themselves." Thranduil spoke. 

Elrond smirked, looking over at him. "All the more reason to keep her her existence no more than a mystery. In truth, Thranduil, I do not know what she is capable of. I feel safe with her, she is in control and her healers do not leave her side. In saying all that, I would not wish her to be her enemy. There is reason more than myth why none seek to overthrow her prosperous lands and take the profits of her people for themselves. I think they know that the scary stories could come true." There was silence before Thranduil continued on.

"Still, it sounds as if Queen Kahlia exists in paradise. I am nothing but pleased for her." Despite Elrond's words, Thranduil could not help but feel strange about Kahlia's apparent ability to rule alone in happiness and peace. That she had somehow overcome the loss of her soul-mate. Was their love less than what Thranduil had experienced with his Queen? Was she all for show and still burned beneath the surface, as he did? Or was she dormant inside now that he was gone from this world? Did her sickness change the effects of loss for her? The questions repeated over in his mind.

As if knowing what the Elvenking was thinking, Elrond spoke. "She is not unlike you, Thranduil. She has suffered as you do."

"Does she still?" Thranduil asked without pause.

"She always will." Elrond sighed. Clearly hitting a nerve, Thranduil's silence spoke for him. It was clear what Elrond was trying to do, showcasing that even in loss lands can prosper and kingdoms can build high under the rule of only one, pushing for him to clear the forests and make them flourish once more. But the Elvenking was unconvinced of her true happiness, knowing his own personal misery. There was no escaping such pain; it would be laid thick beneath any smile, any laughter and any triumph. Thinking of hers only invited thoughts of his own, and for a few fleeting moments the memory of his beloved, his Queen, was paralysing.

"Perhaps one day the two of you could meet again? You would have much to talk about. I think you would love her, as all of those fortunate enough to know her do."

"I would always welcome meeting such an inspirational figure. The Queen of Roundruel is free to visit my Kingdom if she should ever wish. But love," Thranduil began, his striking gaze meeting Elrond's eyes for but a moment as they walked on, his stride commanding as ever... the Elvenking himself again in every way.  
"I know little of love."


	8. The Council

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience and kind words. 
> 
> Time for Kahlia again! To Roundruel we go.
> 
> With love, C xoxo

Kahlia waited nervously in her grand chamber. Mainly the great hall was used to receive her most important guests, such as long-time friends of her father, come to tell tales of his heroic crusade in which he brought many Sindar Elves to the paradise and protection of Roundruel. Sometimes the chamber would host banquets and balls for the entertainment of her people, an easy way to keep the rich and playful with smiles on their faces. In this room she had witnessed her husband order armies to march forth, watched her father sign for peace with fellow lands, and here she herself was crowned Queen. Now, the room was empty but for a few servants shutting the heavy curtains of gilded gold and emerald green at her request. Her ornate grand throne of carved wood and twisted iron had been brought down to the inner circle of the massive room, so she could be level with her healers. Usually it sat above the space on a rise where once the thrones of her father and mother, and then once her husband, sat proudly. 

Three chairs, beautiful in their ancient quality and distinctly special were recalled for Kahlia's healers each time a council among them was to be heard and placed in a circle with her own. No one else but Galdrien was brought to witness, and such privacy started many a whisper amongst the court as to what magic was being conjured. Of course, Kahlia was short in entertaining rumour, something she detested. Tradition stated that Galdrien was not permitted to sit next to a throned Queen in the great room, and so stood by her side or sat to the far end of the room instead. It never bothered her.

Kahlia was a Queen of the highest caliber. She needed permission from none to do as she liked from day to dusk. Her word and will was absolute. The reality of her situation she knew; if she wanted to take Elrond's offer and travel to Mirkwood, she could go this very moment.

But Kahlia was no fool. As much as she was sure of her right, of her place, she was sure she would not go far, nor would she want to, without her healers. This was not a child stamping her feet and wishing herself away - this was a woman, asking for the help of those she trusted wholeheartedly. 

Kahlia knew she would be met with resistance, and with good reason. She was asking them to face the unknown, the danger and the challenge, for her own personal pleasure. But they would also know that she would never ask unless she believed that it was worth it. 

Roundruel was a lush, bright, fruitful, healthy and well-loved land that the Queen had travelled up and down a thousand times in her long life. Kahlia had played at the beach with the clear water brushing at her ankles and enveloping her feet as her daughter squealed in delight. She had ridden her horses up to the borders and through the dense forest with her husband as he pointed out the half-hidden Dwarven doors at the side of the Blue Mountains he had found in his youth. She had learned archery in the wind at the coast, had mastered the summer ball at the old lake each year, had climbed and loved and counted every inch of her Roundruel. There was nowhere better, safer, sweeter - and she knew it, believed it. But the same yearning for adventure that had found her the moment her father had given her permission to see Rivendell all those years ago burned on. Kahlia did not know if this was a good sign or not. All she knew is that she wanted to see Middle Earth once in her lifetime. 

Deep in thought, Kahlia hardly noticed the doors open as Chella, Louell and Nessa came into the grand chamber with Galdrien close behind. As she heard the door shut she was brought back to the world, and stood smiling as they reached her, each bowing low to her in a sign of deep respect. She nodded and took her throne, their permission to take their own. Even amongst those she cared for, tradition and respect was upheld. The fact that Kahlia was a Queen trumped all. Her presence was more than a title; her very nature, the aura that surrounded her in all that she did commanded respect and admiration with ease. Kahlia had been a Queen from birth, meant for rule.

“My healers, what troubles you?” Kahlia opened the council immediately, her talent for knowing emotion in those around her flowing freely.

“Our Queen,” Nessa replied, looking over to Kahlia calmly. “There has been a spike in your unrest for at least one full moon past. We come to you to ask what indeed troubles you; if your dreams are worse, if your soul is restless.”

“We want to help.” Chella said quietly, but sincerely. Kahlia looked over each of them with a warm smile on her face, forever grateful for their care. They were her family now.

“I have been restless, I feel it when I am awake now. This is unusual for me.” The Queen spoke, gathering the courage she needed to submit her intentions. “I know why, and I feel I have found the remedy. I also know, already, that you will not like it. But I ask that you take it into your consideration because my mind is all but made up… with your support.” 

Usually these council sessions would proceed with Kahlia telling them how she had been feeling since the curse of a dark memory struck her, or a sudden spike of energy had found her, or worse still, a happy memory of her beloved child that she could not escape. Each time spells would be cast, enchantments put over the Queen, and a safe place for her to speak provided. Never before had she claimed to have already found the answer. With this unusual turn of events, the healers were all on high alert. “We will always hear you, Kahlia.” Nessa said, waiting.

Swallowing hard, Kahlia stood with her usual grace. “Lord Elrond sent me this.” She said, walking over and giving it to Nessa. “I intend to follow through with his request.” The Queen continued standing, her hands clasped behind her back as she paced slowly, a sign of her unrest. Chella and Louell stood to read over the shoulder of Nessa. 

Silence followed, Kahlia looked over and caught the eye of Galdrien who smiled at her encouragingly. She could not help but give her one in return.

“My Queen,” Nessa said slowly, folding the letter up carefully. “What you ask is… immense.”

“Almost unthinkable.” Louell said passionately, looking up at Kahlia.

“You intend to leave Roundruel?” Chella gasped, more to herself than to her sisters or her Queen. 

Kahlia turned back to them slowly, carefully choosing her words. “I know it seems out of the question, but you know I would not suggest this without great need.” The thought of never leaving Roundruel now was agonising, and Kahlia feared the slow suicide. “I am restless because I want to see Middle Earth. I need to see the homes of my kin through more than the stories and songs of those who have been there themselves. I need be witness to that beauty myself. Here, I am suffocating.” 

The healers listened on, Nessa closing her eyes, great fear swept over her at the thought of reliving the sickness again. Memories of arriving to the encampment where the Elfling slept all those years before, the fierce need she had felt to heal her - that need had never left. She opened her eyes to look at Kahlia and felt it all over again. As great a Queen as Kahlia was, to Nessa, she was always the beautiful child that fate kept trying to tear down in every cruel way possible. She lived to protect her, a mother to a child.

“I do not remember the terrors any more, and I do not want to know what I scream - my only clue to it is my dry, sore throat each morning. I wake safe, refreshed, clear - thanks to each of you. I trust you.” The Queen continued. “I will never be cured, you have cast enough spells and said enough prayers to know this. And in light of this, I wish to wait no longer. Elrond’s letter has filled me with more joy than I have felt since… since Allihah.”

It was rare to hear such a name spoken, and it was noticed by all. 

“Elrond does not know of your terrors, my Queen. I do not know if he would suggest you travel if we had not kept it a secret from him.” Louell spoke.

“I will tell him.” Kahlia replied, still pacing slowly. “And yes, I believe you to be correct, Louell. I have no argument for you.”

Chella and Louell shared concerned glances, while Nessa continued to keep her eyes closed as she listened on, one hand to her head in support. “What about what happened the last time you left these walls, great Queen? That is where this all began.” Chella spoke.

“Last time I did not have you.” Kahlia replied, having courage enough to pace back to her seat and take her throne calmly. “While none of us can guarantee anything, there is proof of my progress. Each of us have come far from that time.”

“And if you hurt someone?” Louell said, locking eyes with the Queen. 

“I trust you would not let me.” 

“Kahlia, we can not promise you that!”

“You have never promised me anything, and yet here I am. Breathing; awake and alive. Because of you. I have seen darker days with you - I refuse to believe that this will be our greatest challenge.” The Queen replied with emotion. It was not like Kahlia to get overly excited, her natural grace always pulling her back, but here she let her feelings show. They needed to see how serious she was about this.

Silence followed as Chella and Louell returned to their seats wearily, the challenge ahead still spinning in their minds. Kahlia, to them, was a daughter. They had seen her endure pain beyond measure, a darkness expressed through a curse that remained controlled but unexplained. The years they had been together, watching over her, stretched beyond memory - yet still no cure had been found for her terrors each night.

“What I ask of you, after everything, is unfair. Nothing bounds you to me but loyalty and love, and I know this. I’m sorry I have been able to provide little in return for your care of me.” Kahlia said passionately. She lifted her head to take in their expressions. “But this is the only light I have seen in so long. I have no husband to carry on with, no child to watch grow - that life was taken from me. The only joy I have left to seek is to see the world, and I would not ask if I did not believe that it was time. I feel it. I trust it.”

“What if we cannot save you, my child?” Nessa spoke quietly. “What if you fall beyond our reach?”

Kahlia felt shock, one thing she had not considered, but her answer was quick to come. “I will leave everything in place for that outcome. And I will go to the next life in happiness, knowing I was taken while following the path I was meant to take with those I hold most dear.”

“You are ready to die for this adventure?” Nessa replied.

“I am not saying that I am not afraid, Nessa. There is great uncertainty for me more than any.” The Queen said defiantly. “But I would rather die trying than stay here, in this great kingdom, and rot.”

Galdrien looked over the scene before her as the four Elven woman sat deep in thought, words no longer being spoken out loud. Her beloved Queen sat still and straight, as posed in her throne as if a room of people stood staring, the expectations of a royal figure forever ingrained into her being. She could see she was strained; half knowing the absurdity of her request, half being pulled toward the escape that beckoned. Queen Kahlia was rarely selfish, so for her this moment was one of pain. Galdrien wished she was more than a simple maid so she could help in some way. In her dreams she wished she was Kahlia’s sister - there to share all secrets, a bond unable to be broken. She was always in awe of her, and knew her great blessing was to be her favourite.

Kahlia beckoned to her, moving her hand without speaking a word or looking in her direction. Galdrien was immediately by her side. “I want to go.” The Queen said quietly, only to her. 

“I will leave you to your thoughts,” Queen Kahlia spoke to each of them as they too stood. “I know you will each need some time. As you read in the letter, Elrond wishes me to visit Mirkwood at the request that I try to help the Elvenking. He see’s Roundruel as the success we know it to be, and has great fears for Lord Thranduil’s Kingdom. He waits for my word in Mirkwood, so I wish to organise as soon as possible, but I will only move forward with your blessing. I await your answer. Thank you, my healers.” Kahlia nodded to them as they again bowed low, and the great Queen was gone, Galdrien in tow.


	9. Farewell Old Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW
> 
> IT'S LATE I'M SORRY
> 
> I really loved writing this chapter. It was split over a long period of time, but as I go on I realise more and more how easy it is to slip back into these characters and adore them. 
> 
> Thank you for all of your ongoing encouragement and love!
> 
> God I love Thranduil.
> 
> C xoxo

‘…Give love to Arwen for me when you are home, and be sure to travel safe. I miss you dearly.

All my love dear friend,

Queen K’

It was the third time Elrond had read through the letter, unable to shift the Queen of Roundruel from his mind. Her letter had detailed her usual positive attitude and beautiful nature, undeniably tinged by the boredom of her every day life. He could not help but think that it was time for her to see the world. The Lord of Rivendell had a good feeling about it.

Just as he folded the letter shut once more the last trunk to be carried down to the gates of Mirkwood was taken away by a servant, leaving him with just one for the next morning when his party would depart and face the dying forest once more. Elrond had a mix of emotions about leaving the reclusive Kingdom. On the one hand, he would be happy to breathe in the freshest air and feel the sunlight on his skin. The vastness of the caves within the solid walls were a sight to behold, but not a place where he could easily remain for all time. On the other hand, he felt a deep sadness and even guilt over the state he would be forced to leave Mirkwood in. He did not know what would save the hidden Kingdom from the fate their King had seemingly already assigned them; to slip behind their high walls and be forgotten.

Thranduil still mourned, inwardly, where no one could reach. It reflected in his world. While Mirkwood was ultimately strong and solid and would go on for thousands of years more, Elrond did not know what those years would look like. He did not want to see the Elvenking put on a mask so thick that his greater judgements should one day slip. That Mirkwood should one day sink so low into the ground that friends, that star light, should become nothing more than a memory. 

Still, he thought to himself as he took a stroll to his window that overlooked some of the forest below, black and grey like twisted charcoal and dusty embers, there was time to make change. He hoped Kahlia would be the beginning.

It would be a sight to see Thranduil and Kahlia standing side by side, King and Queen of such different lands, carrying the same burden. An eternity alone. Both so strong, so beautiful, so level-headed, so stubborn… both living only to do what they see fit to be best for their Kingdoms. Existing for duty, for loyalty to those that had come before them, for fathers long lost and loves snatched quickly away, as if by the night itself. It was impossible not to look at the two towering figures, thought the wise Lord of Rivendell, and feel both admiration and pity in equal amounts. 

Elrond hoped they would like each other, genuinely. That they would move past the royal facade of politeness and find true friendship; a comrade to confide in against the nothingness they both faced inwardly. He was sure Kahlia would be open, and that by her charm and face alone could move Thranduil, eventually, to try to be as well. 

Kahlia was sure to love the festivities that would be held on her honour here - the Queen was definitely in her element at a good party. She carried herself with such effortless grace and being the beauty she was, all flocked to her, all were entertained merely be her presence. Even Thranduil had admitted to her skills here, and then she was no more than a child. Now with many years behind her, she would stun.

The Lord of Rivendell, on the other hand, had definitely had his fill of drink, dance and song while in Mirkwood. The grandness here struck him as both dazzling and that of a cover-up, a cloak - like an addict covering their addiction with a convincing smile. He wondered how worried the people really were in regards to the forest that grew forever deadlier around them, caging them in like animals. But he and his company had not even heard a single servant speak of it to another in a hurried whisper - this worried him further. Perhaps it was of no concern to them at all, their trust in their King so unwavering that they happily lay their long futures in his hands. 

As much as Elrond worried, ultimately he knew that there was still time. The world here would not be ending anytime soon - just the sooner Thranduil could be helped, the better. The better for Mirkwood, for his people, for those that settled around his lands, and for the King himself.

The great and wise Elrond sighed deeply to himself and folded his arms across his chest, closing his eyes. He had to trust better days were coming. That they would find a way to help this unusual, mystical, breath-taking place and its wayward King.

As he stood perfectly still, thoughts still buzzing around his mind, a servant entered into his chambers in a blind rush. Puffing loudly, the servant stood doubled over, one hand on a post at the end of Elrond’s bed to support himself. He was clearly exhausted, trying desperately to recover himself. Elrond was bemused, unsure if the young man was merely trying to deliver in a hurry for favour, until he saw a letter in his hand with the crest of Roundruel upon it.

Kahlia.

“My Lord… I, I am sorry to burst in on you, but was told… to bring this in a rush so great, as if it were a declaration… of, of war my Lord, amongst the whole world.” The servant said between gasping breaths. Not often an elf was seen in such a state, so Elrond knew that it was with great effort the letter was brought to him. The young man must have sprinted around half the Kingdom.

“I thank you, dearly. You have done a fine job to bring me this is such haste, your master will know it.” Elrond smiled at him, quick to take the letter from his outstretched hand. The servant bowed low and exited the room.

Elrond opened the letter, one firm snap to break the seal, swiftly unfolding it to reveal the hastily scribbled words within.

‘My dear Elrond,

You will hardly believe it, as I do not yet myself.  
But I bring you word that I will come to Mirkwood, to Rivendell - to see what I have only ever dreamed.  
I know you will be leaving soon so send this letter with great haste.  
Give my love to Thranduil, and for him to expect me. We will leave within the week.

All my love, friend,  
Queen K’

A smile spread across his face, greater with every word he read. Today was a good day indeed. So much would come of this, this was life-changing for all involved. The shift in Elrond’s energy was immediate and uplifting. Suddenly he knew he could face the final massive feast tonight that would be held in his honour, for he had news for the king of Mirkwood that would shock him to the core. 

A small part of him looked forward to seeing the mask on Thranduil’s face slip for just a moment.

\- - - - -

Elrond stood at the doors of the great hall used for all grand festivities in the Kingdom of Mirkwood, it walls having seen the majority of the most lavish celebrations in Middle Earth. The music boomed around the room, being carried to every corner and reaching every set of ears, spreading joy and dance as it went. The musicality of the Elves was that of legend and great envy amongst the other races of Middle Earth, the smooth and sweet sound able to calm, thrill and entertain in equal measure for whatever cause it was called. Below the music was a steady hum of voices; a thousand different tunes speaking in a hurried rush of words and laughter. This time the great hall had been decorated in the deepest reds, that of the most precious ruby stones, with accents of gold in the goblets for wine or the detailing on silken laid chairs or ornate table cloths. At the far end of the room to where the Lord of Rivendell stood were two thrones, decorated for the evening draped in the same lush ruby red, in front of a great carved table of oak. Down both sides of this setting were two long tables following the outer wall of the room all the way to the front doors, and on each were countless places set for various nobles and guests alike.

Already the room was full to the brim with bodies; stunning Elves from every great family in the Kingdom come to drink and dance and judge. Elrond was yet to be welcomed officially, and stood to the side of the great open doors to enjoy the view. All were in their best for this final feast; dresses of the finest fabrics and perfect fit filled the room in loud competition. While all royal courts in every land were a place where friends were few, some were more vicious than others. He counted his own as perfectly tame, jolly even. He admired the iron fist in which Kahlia ruled her own. Thranduil, he had observed, seemed to hardly notice any of them at all. 

As this thought brought the hint of a smile to his lips, the music fully stopped, causing the room to soon fall into a hushed and then complete silence. A cut to the ambience could mean only one thing; the King had arrived.

Dressed in a robe of brilliant gold that glinted under the burning lights above with an undergarment of the same ruby red hinting beneath, the King of Mirkwood strode into his court was purpose. Upon his head sat an ornate golden crown seemingly fashioned from the cursed forest itself. As poised and as confident as he was born, he addressed the silence with with ease. “Mirkwood, we gather tonight to feast to the farewell of our dear friends, Lord Elrond and his people of Rivendell. Toast him happiness.” The room was ever in awe of Thranduil. It did not matter how many times you were privy to his speech or within his vicinity in your entire lifetime; his remarkable beauty and undeniable power struck all, every time. Elrond thought, as he looked at the King in all of his splendour, how little it really meant to him to be so special, so revered. All at once it hit him just how much had been taken from Thranduil with his wife’s passing. It was more than death.

In that moment Thranduil’s eyes found Elrond’s in the crowd. “We wish him and his people good health,” he began as Elrond stepped out into the crowd, down onto the middle of the floor to meet the King. “And safe travels. Namaarie, Nildo.” He bowed on his last words. Elrond returned the gesture, taking the stage as the Elvenking became stone once more; a marble statue without expression. 

“To you all I say my deepest thanks, for this time in your Kingdom of unrivalled beauty and splendour has been nothing but joy upon joy. Thank you for your hospitality, your friendship, your welcome.” Elrond spoke with deep confidence, an ancient wisdom that exuded from his being that commanded gentle, unwavering respect in all circles and among all peoples; Elven, Dwarven and human alike. There was a generosity and calm to his spirit, a genuine happiness that Kahlia delighted in, but still the Lord of Rivendell was an Elf that had clearly seen more than most ever should. He was a leader, a father, in every sense. “And to you, Elvenking,” He began, their eyes meeting. “…I admire most not the beauty of your world, nor the quality of your wine,” To this the crowd gave a small murmuring of laughter, nothing to boastful that it should attract the eyes of the King. “… but instead it is the strength and passion with which you lead your Kingdom. It is not hard to see why you are admired above all, and why such commanding respect is given wherever you go. Tonight we also drink and dance to the wellbeing of the King.” At this Elrond smiled, and the room finally cheered, the noise giving encouragement for festivities to begin. Thranduil’s smile was small, but genuine, though it barely reached his eyes. Elrond was yet to see one that did. The Elvenking gave a small, quick flick of his hand toward the musicians who immediately burst back into life, and turned to take the walk to his throne once Elrond was by his side. 

Thranduil was feeling particularly strained on this evening. The restlessness plagued him more than ever, and he sensed that change was upon him, as he had before Elrond’s arrival. He had resisted taking midnight walks in the forest, should he concern the Lord of Rivendell any further by his current state of mind. While Thranduil did not fear the way he was feeling, it bothered him to be uneasy over the unknown. He had known for a long time exactly what the future for him would entail; the same want for the past, the same pain over the loss, the same dull, listless existence. And the dreams, they had been especially vivid as of late. She was haunting in her gown of blue, his Queen, so close that he had all but reached out and touched her skin. It had all felt so real. This very morn he had woken in a cold sweat, a gasp so audible that it had sent him sitting bolt upright in his bed, searching frantically for sanity and calm. She had been there; his lips had been on hers. But she wouldn't open her eyes.

The Elvenking was a picture of perfection as he took his throne in the great hall, the opposite of what he had awoken as. Once again the pain had been buried, the torture tucked away for later on. His thin white robe had stuck to his porcelain skin that morning, the sweat his terror had made cold - now, the brilliant shimmering gold of his robe fitted perfectly to his form. None could know his reality, and none ever would. He would welcome this change with caution, and his usual commanding grip. Come what may.

Elrond sat beside him, almost casually, getting comfortable in his chair as a lavish selection of foods and wines were set before them, the best on offer in the Kingdom of Mirkwood and the lands surrounding. Thranduil had little appetite at such public events, choosing his wine first instead. The finest bottle was selected and poured for the two Lords, and they toasted each other quietly. “I meant my words Thranduil, you have been a most amazing host, and a finer King would be hard to find.” Elrond flattered, taking his first choice of sweet treats and fresh breads. 

“That means everything coming from a Lord as fine as yourself, Elrond. Who is wiser than you?” Thranduil replied, sipping his wine and looking over the room from his elevated status. His gaze moved over the blushing faces of Elven maidens in their best, him hardly acknowledging even a scrap of the effort they had put in to be beautiful for him that night. What could they compare to a Queen fashioned into a perfect memory? None could compete with a ghost.

A comfortable silence fell between them as Thranduil continued to scan the room, noticing little and caring less, though outwardly he was as poised and present as ever, his attention felt by all. Everyone danced especially well, few daring to miss a beat. Servants bowed as low as possible when serving his table, all his guest feigned great joy and hearty laughter, no matter how they were truly feeling. They wanted to look good. Thranduil knew it and had grown tired of it from day one. He would be glad when Elrond was on his way and it was all over, when such events would be few and far between.

“I come to you with news, great unexpected news, dear friend…” Elrond began between sips of wine. Thranduil gave him his full attention as more delicacies were set before them. He lowered his voice to no more than a hush, leaning in to the King. 

“Queen Kahlia intends to visit.”


	10. So We Ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank your for your kindness, your ongoing patience, your understanding, and your faith in me. 
> 
> I wholeheartedly enjoyed writing this chapter; I am just as excited to expand the world of my original characters as I am those that already exist, and seeing them all fit together so beautifully in Tokien's world is an exciting and ever growing joy.
> 
> Kahlia is so sweet and so special to me, as are all of her companions - who knows, one day I may just give her a world of her own ;)
> 
> But that's no time soon and will never interfere with this story, I assure you! I'm just not capable of giving up on Thrandy.
> 
> To Roundruel we go, but not for long...
> 
> OH AND JUST QUICKLY - I do have a little blog I've just created over on Tumblr for T & K story inspiration: http://tkinsp.tumblr.com/  
> It is BRAND NEW so not a lot on their yet, but I'm working on it ;)
> 
> Thank you again for your comments, support and encouragement.   
> Enjoy and I hope to be updating soon!
> 
> With all my love,  
> xoxo C

Kahlia awoke to the beauty of her world, and it seemed another day just like any other. The sun was creeping up over the horizon as she opened her eyes; it’s rays soaking the sky in the lightest blue, waking the creatures of Middle Earth with it. She heard birds sing beyond the closed doors of her balcony, a thousand melodies serenading the Queen as they had so many times before. Kahlia still remembered a time when she would awake to more than song, but to her husband. She would find his eyes of burning emerald to be taking her in, worshipping her form, a small smile on his face. He was a great man; a man of military and authority, but with her, indeed the most passionate of lovers, most gentle of caretakers and the most noble of husbands. Jet black hair fell beyond his shoulders, and his sharp features were interrupted by only the battle scars that glistened against the paleness of his skin. The most defined scar stretched from the corner of his mouth all the way up his left cheek, deep and defined. The Queen would often trace the tip of her finger over it, loving him and everything he was so utterly, she hardly believed she had room left in her heart for another. That was, of course, until Allihah was born.

Today the thought washed over her as she lay wide awake in her chambers, unwilling to move at that moment. She automatically brought a hand to rest on her neck, feeling the noticeable hoarseness in her throat as she swallowed; without a doubt, she had been screaming again.

This hardy surprised her. With such an immense day ahead of her, it was sure to make her restless. She hoped most of all that she had not frightened her healers. With arrangements finally settled and her Kingdom in order after it’s initial shock at her planned trip, it was time to go. Everything was going to be fine; she believed it, she willed it so. She hoped it with her whole heart. With this thought she prayed to her father once more; for strength and safety and guidance. It was a time where she prayed he would be most proud of her. 

Kahlia sat up slowly, stretching up to the canopy above her, it’s size so great she had no hope of reaching it. Closing her eyes again as she let the tension melt away from her, she thought only of her excitement; of familiar faces and new lands. Finally slipping out from under her covers and letting her small bare feet touch the floor below, she walked over and opened her doors to another clear blue day in Roundruel. Even though the sun was still not fully in the sky her Kingdom below was in full swing preparing for her journey and the farewell ceremony that would happen in only a few hours time. Her party was due to leave at midday and not a moment later, so a breakfast with the great families and noble folk of Roundruel was planned, and then a public farewell to follow. She felt an unease and emptiness at the thought of leaving Roundruel; as much as she wanted to get away, she could not help but worry over her homeland. They had not been without her since she had come to rule. Extensive measures had been taken to ensure it’s safety and continued sustainability while she was away - knowing it would be left in the capable hands of her loyal Council that had served her father and her husband alike, she felt instantly better.

The familiar three quick knocks of Galdrien were a welcome interruption to her thoughts as she stared out onto Roundruel below. 

“Come in, Galdrien.” Kahlia spoke. Without hesitation her hand maid glided into the room, this time with Kahlia’s dress already chosen with it’s weight draped over her arm. 

“Good morn, my Queen.” She curtseyed low, careful not to let the shimmering gold gown touch the floor. “Are you well?”

“I am. It is a good day, my favourite. Are you excited?” Kahlia spoke to Galdrien as if she were taking her on her first adventure - which in many ways, she was. The Queen took her usual seat in her cushioned stool as she motioned for the rest of her maids and ladies to enter the room.

Galdrien stood beside her as the rose waters, powders and oils were brought in, and a bath filled to the brim carried in carefully by half a dozen maids. “Excited is not great enough a word, my Queen. Words fail me today.”

“You are sweet.” Kahlia smiled as she stepped behind the screen brought in for her. She handed her white silken night dress over the screen to a waiting maid while she got in the bath quickly, it’s gorgeous floral scent and steam filling her room. Bathing herself gently with the soft cloths brought to her, she let the fumes and heat warm her soul and in turn, her mind. She settled into the knowing within herself - the assurance that today was the day she had dreamed of, and that it was really happening. That it would be rewarding, in more ways than she could understand in this moment. This journey had a charged energy within it that she could not begin to explain; something she felt, and knew, but had no words for. She trusted the calling, the joy and the excitement. Despite the danger and the unknown, she had pushed and here she was. On the verge of freedom.

Galdrien came to wash her hair as she closed her eyes, deep in thought. Galdrien was good with silence. While most maidens and ladies there was a constant need to chatter and gossip over the smallest things; to Galdrien it was wasted breath. Kahlia knew it, and praised it. Her long chestnut brown hair was gently dried as she soaked back in her surroundings, the delicious rose water scent saturating the room in a momentary heaven. Kahlia stood bare as the towel was passed to her, Galdrien cleverly averting her eyes as she dried herself and the rest of her maidens waited. Kahlia truly had a stunning form; her body a monument to beauty itself. Every curve remained as defined and lush as if it were dreamed and painted by the most talented of artists. Her skin was a pale luminescent tale untouched and ongoing without flaw. She had been crafted by the heavens her husband had told her, all those years ago. He would admire her form as she stood before the fire, knowing it was impossible to feel more adored or more beautiful in the presence of another. She thanked above for him.

Now, her body went to waste. She had not felt the touch of another since, and never planned to again. She was certain that once you had experienced the best there was no point in settling for less.

Kahlia was dressed quickly in her striking gown of glistening gold; the ornate dress covered in a fine hand woven intricate pattern all over, catching the sunlight in a dazzling show of wealth and craftsmanship. It was a special dress for a special day. Today her hair was left half down, the other half swept up and clipped and tucked carefully with a few loose strands left to frame her face, a gorgeous citrine set in gold placed at centre at the back of her finished style. Her arms and legs were rubbed with the most precious oils, giving moisture and the delicate scents of various flora for an intoxicating mix. 

She stood to take in her finished look, taking a slow turn in the mirror to observe all angles. “You do a fine job, my maidens.” She said as all stood to admire their work. She turned finally to address them. “Those of you fortunate enough to be joining us on this journey, I welcome and reward your service to me with this gesture. To the rest of you, do not be discouraged for you collectively do great work, and your families will know it. You will have work while I am gone, so fear not for that, and be well and blessed while I am absent.” Each bowed low, as it was a great honour to be addressed by the Queen, especially in such an intimate setting. Kahlia was to take her three best maidens with her, as well as Galdrien. She dismissed them with a smile as they filed out silently.

“Come now Galdrien, in your best. We have a long morning ahead.” Kahlia moved the smile to her favourite. 

\- - - - -

The great room was in full to the brim with the most important figures of Roundruel; from the youngest nobleman of the best families to the ever wise companions of her late father. Kahlia knew all of their names, their motives and their charms. She also kept every single one in check without letting her grace and poise slip for even a moment. This was Kahlia’s Kingdom in every way.

As the Elves and the occasional dwarf danced and drank before her, even so early in the morning, she admired them all with her usual attentive look of warmth and favour. This was a celebration of her freedom and of her well being - her Kingdom was happy she was exploring the world. Of course initially she was met with shock and a flow of questions; who would lead us, protect us, help us in your absence? When word came directly from the Queen that the Council would oversee all matters while she was gone, all questions stopped.

“They will miss you, you know. Even the most corrupt in this room love you. I, however, cannot wait for the adventure to begin.” Ellieth spoke as he sat beside Kahlia, although lower, as not to seem at her level. It was forbidden.

“I love Roundruel, whole heartedly. However, like you, I am also eager for the road ahead. I thank you for coming with me Ellieth, for being my guide beyond our borders. Your knowledge is invaluable, as are the great Elven soldiers you bring with you.” She spoke, meeting his eyes with a smile. It was met by the cheekiness of his own. The gleam in his eye was ever present, a warmth and positivity radiated from his being despite and perhaps because of the horrors he had seen at war. The horror of seeing his own best friend be slain before him. Kahlia failed to understand how he coped so amicably, and admired his resilience and his loyalty. She had given him the chance once to be relieved of his duty and seek his own peace; he had opted to stay and pledge his undying loyalty to her and to her kin instead. 

Kahlia looked back over the room. At the top she sat in her great ornate throne, facing the guests before her as they mingled, ate, danced and sang. Galdrien stood beside her throne and observed the room quietly, to her left sat Kahlia’s three healers in their unique thrones. Ellieth, as head of her army, took his smaller throne to her right, able to lean over and whisper a joke in the ear of the Queen when the mood struck him. It was an unusual set up; had her husband been alive, it would be just the two of them and Galdrien here, but since his passing she had not wished to sit up there alone. The modified space was still within the rules set long before her time. 

“I will do my speech now Galdrien, we will need to leave within the hour.” She said quietly to her hand maiden. Galdrien nodded and took a small step back beside the throne as Kahlia stood. The musicians stopped and so did the chatter, almost instantly. It was a gift to hear the Queen speak, and all knew it.

“My dear family, friends, noble folk of Roundruel and our neighbouring Blue Mountains, I welcome you and sincerely thank you for your attendance on this special day. An occasion dreamed of and longed for; we are all excited and ready for the journey ahead. A moment we will speak of for a long time.” She began, her eloquent speech and warm, song-like voice enchanting as it had countless times before. The stage was always hers.

“For me, there are no words to describe this days true meaning. To see a world beyond our walls is a great thing indeed. For your understanding, your support - the outcry of passionate joy for my travels is touching and cherished by me, by your Queen. My father would be most proud of you all.” Kahlia said with a smile, a loud quick cheer being heard from the room at the mention of her late father.

“I know some of you question, and ever fear for my safety. I need no more assurance than that my great three healers will be at my side constantly, guiding and protecting me as they always have, so I may lead and serve you to the best of my abilities. In them I trust and in turn, so should you.” Kahlia turned to acknowledge her healers, all of which took a small bow to her. All had a mask of calm that would fool the room, but not Kahlia. She sensed their unease with her unusual gift. The Queen hoped it was just first day nerves. 

“I leave you in the most capable hands possible; my council. These Elven men were friends and trusted guides to my father, my husband, and myself in turn. I leave my whole world to them, and expect to find it in all of it’s beauty when I return home.“ She looked to the table of them to her right, and all smiled to her, some nodding, some raising their goblet in thanks. She raised her hand in a sign of respect, a sweeping gesture of good faith. “Which will not be long, I assure you. For all curious, I first travel to the forest and Kingdom of Mirkwood to visit the Elvenking and sample their famous wines,” She grinned briefly and the room gave a jolly laugh. “And then to Rivendell, to join my dear Lord Elrond and meet his kin at long last.”

She took a deep breath and examined the room once more, searching for the right words as the mood simmered down and all lent to hear her closing speech. “I will miss home, there is no doubt. Roundruel is who I am; it is my spirit, as it was my fathers. Roundruel never leaves me and I never leave Roundruel, not completely. Be assured by this if nothing else. I will come back to you with great stories, and with even greater joy in my heart. Take care, each of you, and go forth with my blessing.” Kahlia spoke. The room followed with an eruption of cheers and claps, all standing to applaud and farewell their Queen. There was great love for Kahlia felt and given by all, and her smile to the room around her was one of the most genuine she had given in years. Tears threatened, but were not allowed to fall.

\- - - - -

“That is everything, my Queen.” Galdrien said as a bustle of Elven men in shining silver armour organised themselves and their horses around them. Their noise was minimal to the cheering and chatter of the great crowd assembled beyond; all of Roundruel had turned out to see this.

“I trust it is, thank you, Galdrien. Have someone fetch my horse.” Kahlia replied as she pulled on her riding gloves, the light brown leather warm underneath the beaming light of the full midday sun. Dressed now in a more practical dress of dark forest green, the Queen had her hair all pinned up and back in a long pony tail to assist with the half-day of riding ahead. Her boots matched her gloves beautifully, hand made in the Kingdom by her finest. As she adjusted herself, patting down her reasonable but beautiful dress, her stallion appeared led by the horse master himself. Isilme was the colour of midnight; the deepest endless black, a coat that glistened with heavy and solid muscles that rippled beneath. He was a threatening and impressive sight - few dared to approach him even at his most docile. To Kahlia he was obedient and protective, and she doted on him as she would a child, visiting him each day without fail. She would be proud to ride him out into the unknown. 

“Good afternoon, my love. Have you kept well?” She smiled at Isilme as he welcomed her gentle pats on his long nose. 

“He is in fine shape, my Queen. Ready for a long ride.” Her horse master informed her as she let her hand flow down his back, all the way to his tail and back again, walking up and down the large stallion as she listened.

“I thank you for his fine care and upkeep. Let the Council know at your first chance, you will be rewarded. And do be sufficiently prepared for our return; Isilme and the others will need much attention.” She said, swinging herself into the saddle with grace, ease and no assistance. Beside her Galdrien sat upon her own mare, a beautiful chestnut brown the same as the curls of the Queen, a gift. He bowed low in thanks and respect, and slipped away into the crown around them. It was growing by the moment. There were more cheers at seeing the Queen take to her horse.

She turned to look over at her healers, all great riders, all from lands far from Roundruel where horse riding was common and compulsory for all. Each were saddled and well equipped with various trinkets, tools and scripture that only they had use for, because only they knew how to control it. Kahlia always admired their boundless wisdom. Growing up in their constant presence had been one true blessing of her sickness; having these great Elven woman care for her as they did was a gift all on its own. Their were none who matched their ever expanding knowledge, and she knew there could be no better hands for her to have been guided by and cared for. They were her mothers in every sense of the word and she looked to them, even now, for reassurance. As if sensing her inner thoughts, Nessa looked over at her in that moment, giving a smile full of strength and encouragement, hoping to mask her unease at the journey ahead. Even if it was forced, it still helped.

“My healers, are you ready and well, have all you need?” Kahlia asked, riding over gently and stopping Isilme before them.

“I have packed ever herb, spice, powder and perfume possible.” Louell said, looking over her shoulder as the last trunks were loaded into the great carriages that would follow, and back to Kahlia. “We are best prepared as we can be, my Queen.”

Kahlia nodded and smiled, slightly surprised at the amount of supplies they felt they needed, and then in turn feeling foolish for underestimating the true size of the task at hand. “I thank you.” Was all she managed to say.

“Do not be discouraged, my Queen. Our Kahlia. We do so only in hopes we are always ready for anything. It’s the best way to be!” Chella said. She was sunshine, radiating joy and warmth, even during the stress her and her sisters felt. She was opposite to the sometimes cold, quick, matter-of-fact nature of Louell, and was always fast to follow up any of her words with the gentle light of her own. The complimented each other well.

Kahlia smiled on, trying to take Chella’s words to heart but still feeling the warning in the gesture. Part of her just wished they could be excited about the journey, even a very small sliver of joy for her joy. She immediately felt selfish at the thought.

“We support you, Kahlia… Queen Kahlia.” Nessa began, drawing her attention. “We always will. Don’t take our preparation as something negative; understand it is with love, great love.” The noise of the crowd fully drowned out the possibility of anyone else hearing their conversation. “We follow you with joy in our hearts to see our Queen shine so bright, with a smile so full.” Nessa gave her own smile at her words, with less strain than before. Kahlia sensed the honesty of her gesture, felt it in her bones. 

“I am ever grateful, you know that, each of you. I would venture nowhere without the guidance of my mothers.” They all looked at her fondly, as if smiling over at a small rosy-cheeked child rather than a great Queen at the saddle of a beast.

Ellieth rode up beside her in full ornate, shining silver armour, and looked as noble and as handsome as the day she had first seen him ride out to battle far beyond their walls. There was great comfort in having Ellieth come along; she looked to him to guide them along the roads. She expected to meet Elrond at some point, whether be be on his travels home or riding to find her along the way, so their large party would be taking whichever way was common for the Elves to travel. Kahlia knew little of such things but trusted in her Commanders knowledge and natural sense for danger.

“So we ride, my Queen?” Ellieth asked, a full smile on his face, a dazzle of excitement in his eyes. 

Her returned smile was enough of an answer for everyone.


	11. What Kind, Could?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO AND YES, I HAVE BEEN ABSENT FOR A RIDICULOUS 3 MONTHS.
> 
> Much happened and I'll spare you the details, but I'm back with Thrandy chapter for you all.  
> This one is very much an inner monologue, so forgive me if it feels at all drawn out, I'm getting back into the swing of things - but as far as loving this character, nothing has changed!
> 
> Please do enjoy.  
> All my love, C xoxo

“It is an… unusual situation, but a momentous occasion to be receiving such a guest. Ensure that all preparations are made, well in advance. Our best - of everything.” Thranduil spoke, holding the complete attention of his council before him.

“My Lord, who exactly will be in attendance for this visit?” One Elven man said, drawing Thranduil’s intense gaze. Even after all the years serving the King so closely, his attention became no less intimidating, whether or not he intended it.

“Lord Elrond will be returning, and with him he will bring Queen Kahlia of Roundruel.” The Elven men and women could not help their gasp - while it could be considered rude in the presence of the King, Thranduil appreciated the shock. The room quickly dispersed into voices no louder than the most hushed whisper as the Elvenking allowed them a moment to digest the information. 

Silence fell as soon as he spoke again. “Yes, it is something that I did not ever expect to be announcing. Lord Elrond ensures me she is in fine health and only desires to see the lands of her kin, and we will welcome her and her party gladly.” Thranduil spoke, a hidden strain behind his voice, ticking over in his mind. How tired he was of festivities. 

“Legolas and his best have accompanied him to welcome the Queen.” As much as it was a sign of respect, it was also to ensure the safety of all those passing through the great forest of Mirkwood - although something told him Kahlia would probably be just fine. So much was unknown about the hidden Queen.

“See to it that nothing is left to chance - no loose ends. I will need a report from each of you at the next full moon past.” He stood then, the rest of the room quick to stand with him. Thranduil nodded at them briefly, to which they all bowed, and then he was leaving the room. The Elvenking moved with fast fluidity; his closest servants had to learn to keep up with him or risk disapproval. In his stride was grace and arrogance: the walk of one all knowing, all seeing, and well used to his word being absolute.

Behind him two servant boys followed along. Doors were opened and shut behind him in succession as he moved throughout his Kingdom without pause. His world bustled around him as the Elves recovered from the long days of parties, feasts and pleasure. While to them the days were winding down, back to a kind of normalcy, it would not be for long. That evening the council would be organising frantically the areas they covered to ensure that the visit from the ever-mysterious Queen of Roundruel would be up to the standard of the King, and even slightly beyond. The Kingdom would be in a buzz of excitement once more.

Mirkwood was uniquely beautiful; it’s ceilings towering with hints of sunlight creeping in, it’s cavernous space mostly lit by torches that burned on endlessly. Ornate Elven architecture could be placed throughout its narrow bridges, long pathways and numerous levels. The Kingdom was one with nature, great tree roots and naturally occurring flora and fauna growing in lush fullness throughout. Food and wine were never in short supply, the best of everything could be found, grown, made or sourced from the prime position Mirkwood occupied. It was a kind of paradise - a heaven to those that resided within its walls. 

Soon Thranduil was at the door of his chambers, having covered the space from his great office in quick time. His servants were determined to hold their composure, although inside they were exhausted. “I will dine in my chambers tonight - ensure I am not disturbed unless absolutely necessary.” Thranduil spoke calmly to the two men before him. Both bowed low as the doors were opened before the Elvenking. He entered without a look back as the doors were closed. At last, he was alone. He soaked in the almost silence, standing still and sighing. 

He pulled off the long elaborate robe that hung around his shoulders; it’s glistening grey shimmering with the light of the setting sun that poured through his massive open window. It enveloped the space with its expansive outlook. Most of Mirkwood was built into the earth, far below ground. This space was one of the few with any kind of view. It had once belonged to his parents, and then to himself and his wife. There was still an empty space beside their great bed where Legolas had slept in his crib. It had been so close that she could reach out and touch the sleeping child whenever she felt the need, and that was often. The Queen had doted on the Prince as a miracle - their miracle, and never any less. While Mirkwood had been overjoyed at the birth of a Prince, she always liked the fantasy that they were just simple Elves, not royalty, and that he was just their perfect son, and no more was expected of him than to find true happiness. Such talk had sometimes concerned Thranduil, but he would listen to her pretty voice in the dark as they lay in bed late at night, describing a world without pressure, without duty and very much without worry. Even he could not deny that it sounded wonderful.

But Thranduil had been born a King; in every fiber of his being existed the natural instinct to rule and to lead. Like his father before him, he had hoped such an instinct had been given to his own son. Legolas showed excellence from a young age - a great archer and warrior, his skill had been applauded by all of his best teachers, and was well approved of by his then-widowed father. Knowing how easily one could be lost only pushed Thranduil further into wanting the best successor fit to take his place when the time came.

Thranduil thought back to that morning as Elrond prepared to leave, Legolas waiting patiently at the gate for the long journey ahead to meet a Queen of legend. 

“You will do me a great service to meet and escort the Queen with the utmost dignity and respect, Legolas.” Thranduil had said as preparations continued behind them. His son looked out of the gate and into the depths of the sick forest.

“Do you remember her, father? What was she like?” Legolas asked, turning back to the Elvenking.

For a moment Thranduil hesitated, thinking immediately that Legolas was asking of his own mother, but recovered quickly under the guise of thought. “She was graceful - beautiful. Good with a crowded room. She was going to make an excellent Queen.” Thranduil began, a smug smile on his face as he looked at his son. “But, that was before her sickness. I cannot speak for her now, we simply will have to wait and see.”

“I think you will find her more graceful, more beautiful and certainly better with a crowded room than ever, Elvenking.” Elrond interrupted with a grin. Thranduil gave a thin smile. 

“In which case I look even more forward to your return. Travel safe.” He replied, not skipping a beat. The two Lords gave a bow to each other and Elrond was moving away.

“I will bring her here safe and represent us well, father.” Legolas spoke to Thranduil, bowing low.

“See that you do.” Thranduil replied, not a hint of emotion in his voice as he watched the young Elf walk away into the blackness beyond. 

Their closeness had been sacrificed with the loss of his wife, by both choice and necessity. In the eyes of the Elvenking, it was the only way he could move forward. He kept Legolas always at arms length, sure to give enough approval to keep him encouraged, but rarely affectionate in any way. He forbade all questions about his son’s mother, the grief remaining unspeakable. Legolas grew with his servants, his teachers, his maids and his classmates - always better, always different, and always desperately seeking the approval of a father he saw rarely and spoke to even less. While to this day Legolas still sought his approval, he was indifferent to his love - he was convinced there was little of it left to give. He too suspected that it had gone with his mother the day that she died.

The thought stuck Thranduil in the silence, a constant nagging headache at the back of his mind. Part of him regretted the choices that he had made with his son, although he would never admit to it. Despite this he had grown into a wonderful Prince that was sure to one day lead Mirkwood with all the grace and level-headedness of those before him. He had made his father very proud. Still, Thranduil hated to imagine what his late wife would think of the state their relationship was in now - that state it had been in as long as Legolas could remember.

He walked over to the window, leaning against its sill as the sun crept dangerously close to disappearing for another day. Already the moon was visible in the sky; the orange, reds and pinks dyeing the world in a harmony of warm colour. The air had a slight chill, but Thranduil welcomed it; his mind was ticking on relentless today. Much had happened in the weeks passed, so much was coming soon, and he had no idea what to expect. When Elrond had announced so casually the coming of a legend and old friend he had been shocked - and it took something remarkable to shock an Elf that had lived as many years as the Elvenking.

Thranduil was well aware of the great tragic traits that the two monarchs had in common, and wondered deeply now about how Kahlia had coped with not only her sickness, but with the deaths of those closest to her. Although he had never met her husband, the King had been told in good faith that Kahlia had chosen him, and that fact told all that it was a marriage of love rather than convenience. They had wasted no time in having a child, much like he and his own wife. Their stories mirrored so closely that it gave Thranduil a shiver through to the very bone. There was no doubt that the Queen of Roundruel had fallen the hardest. Thranduil could compare nothing to the thought of losing his son, even now. It would mark the absolute end. A soul should never know such pain, and yet Kahlia lived it, endlessly. He wondered suddenly, what kind of Elf could?

He hoped to meet the Queen that Elrond described - as vibrant, lovely and stunning as the most brilliant, sun-drenched day, with the fullness of the starlit sky in the dead of a clear night. The King, however, expected no more than a show. Only those that had suffered the loss of a partner, the fellow parent to their child, their King or Queen - only they could recognize such tragedy in another. He would bet that beneath lived the same tortured, manipulative, sorrow-drenched soul that he had carried with him every moment since. But he expected it to be a very good show. From everything his recent guest had said of Queen Kahlia, she appeared to be on stunning, constant form.

The King sighed as the light truly began to fade, welcoming his kinds favourite light – starlight. The energy of its expanse lit the heavens in bursts of distant, bright twinkles that collectively created magic no wizard could produce. Thranduil had once found peace beneath such sights. Now, it only reminded him further of her, her perfection, and her unrivalled love of the night sky, the endless black, and the moon and stars that decorated it. His mind turned to reality quickly.

His Kingdom would be in happy, controlled chaos as news spread like wildfire that the world was changing. That long-lost Queens spoken of only in whispers would soon be before them, a guest within the walls of Mirkwood. The gossip of the old reaching the ears of the young – “They were in love once, you know? The King met her when he was but an Elfling Prince, and she was the divine Princess – set to marry and rule us all had it been for her sickness, poor, sweet thing… Was she not dead? I thought her dead… A ghost, a witch? Within our walls?... But is she safe?... And why would she come now anyway, she must be cured, surely…No one really knows her true power…Her husband fell, her child too, they say she speaks only in whisper and that grief took her mad, not any sickness…I heard that Roundruel is heaven because their rulers luck is so bad, but spirit is so bright…” Although Thranduil had an ear to every word spoken in his Kingdom, it would never even be thought of in his presence. His people knew how he felt about gossip. Wasted time and breath.

The King had tired greatly of festivities, the parade of wealth and pleasure simply a great excuse to him, as much as he understood their place and importance. He would put on a great show for the Queen, even slightly looking forward to the prospect impressing her with the world she had apparently been so desperate to see. He had no doubt that it would prove to be an interesting time for them all.

Thranduil leaned back from the window and took to his great table in the corner of his chambers, once used for the private dining of his small family. Now it was occupied by organized piles of papers and parchment; deals to sign, laws to consider, matters concerning a King with his eye on every detail and inner-working of his world. He now made space for a new pile – those papers that only concerned the visit of Kahlia, Queen of Roundruel.

There was much to do.


	12. The Crown Weighs Heavy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to bother apologising, only stopping in to say I'M HERE, thank you for reading this if you do, and that I plan on coming up with a Thrandy chapter for you quick smart. In the meantime, get to know Kahlia a bit better.
> 
> All my love,  
> C xoxo

The road had been long, and unforgiving. Queen Kahlia kept a brave face for her royal party, but inwardly she was exhausted each night. She cursed her lack of rides leading up to such a monumental journey; she had caused herself to be insufficiently prepared. 

“My Queen, how are you faring this evening?” Ellieth smiled. Part of Kahlia was irked enough to want to wipe at least part of his smirk right off of his face. Tired, that's all. The look on her face caused his grin to widen even further.

They had travelled inland from the coast of Roundruel since passing around the Blue Mountains at the South end. Now almost across the great wilderness of Minhirath, the Queen was both pleased and relieved to hear they had been making good time, and grateful they had run into no trouble. Heading ever further inland toward Mirkwood, she longed for the stunning kingdom that had only ever existed within her dreams, and the slumber that awaited her. 

“We can slow pace if you wish, my lady.” Ellieth’s quiet voice broke through her thoughts. She shook her head immediately in response.   
“I would never wish it. My lacking is the fault of none but my own. I will handle myself.” Ellieth nodded in response, concern quickly masked by another smile. While Kahlia adored those close to her, their constant attention mixed with her exhaustion were wearing thin. 

With enough provisions carried and kept to skip the town of Bree altogether, the party was to swing around and join the road straight to Rivendell and through the Misty Mountain pass. They would rest in the great Eleven city and replenish their stock quickly, and then make the final push for Mirkwood. She looked forward to the return journey with Elrond, and to see the Kingdom on their way home with him in it, for he was the Lord of Rivendell; the soul of the magnificent place. 

Kahlia now suspected that she had sapped the majority of her strength in the first week of the journey. Constantly fascinated by everything; every strange flower, every new gully or brook, every new person that passed and every small town they travelled through. Many had gaped, cheered, or thrown bouquets at Isilmes feet. Most had been shocked into silence or in whisper with those around them – could it really be? But the beauty of the Queen and the noble set of her shoulders would give her away in a crowd of a thousand. It seemed word was spreading quickly, and she was now glad of Ellieth’s preparations. What had at first seemed like an alarming amount of soldiers and supplies, was now a necessity. Travelling friendly but still strange roads, anything was a threat. While tired, Kahlia did not doubt for a moment that she could still protect herself. Her thoughts flashed quickly to her father’s lessons, and then passing on those same skills to her own babe. The thought was sombre, however fond. 

Twilight was approaching, and soon the party found a clearing covered in from the roads. Camp was set up in amazing time; with so many hands, tents were erected, fires started, and soon the warm, inviting smell of a fresh stew filled the air. The Queen occupied her own private tent, complete with a wing that had beds for her healers and Galdrien, all set a distance from the main camp. The problem of her terrors and of potentially scaring her people or even those of the surrounding settlements with her screams, the healers dealt with it in secret. Each night they would disappear for a time, setting enchantments over her quarters and creating a kind of barrier. Nothing would be heard by the sleeping Elves each night. Initially Kahlia had protested the idea of them staying inside of the barrier, and the chance of hurting them. But the concern had to be dismissed on the grounds that they needed to be as near as possible, and if they could not hold it, there was little hope for anyone else. The revelation had silenced her quickly.

\- - - - -

“I don’t understand it.” Louell spoke quickly, her bright hazel eyes glowing in the dim light and her short jet black hair clipped away from her sharp, stunning face.

“Let us be grateful for it, regardless.” Chella smiled lovingly at her sister, and then the whole group. Her soft strawberry curls were pulled into a high bun, a few loose strands framing her heart-shaped face. Kahlia sat at their feet by the light of a handful of candles, a picture of innocent, untouched beauty as she concentrated fully on the stack of official papers before her. Her long chestnut hair had been let down after a full day of riding; a waterfall of lush curls cascading down her shoulder. A loose cream nightgown of the softest cotton was all she wore, content in the privacy of her mother's and her closest companion. She worked feverishly, desperate to crawl into bed. She felt them watching her, not looking up as she replied.

“I can only say I am praying to anyone that will listen that our good fortune will continue.” Queen Kahlia sighed, signing another paper. 

Each of her healers had been coiled tight in leaving the safety and comfort of Roundruel; the stone walls of the castle, the escape of the sea to whisk their beloved away if it came to that. All manner of complications, problems and possibilities had been discussed between them. Louell had been against the idea well into the journey, keeping a calm and kind face only for Kahlia. Chella was easier swayed, full of a constant hope that their special child could be cured completely one day. Nessa had been the final word, and the most torn. Against the fate they could face, she could not deny Kahlia her freedom any longer. Knowing such a day would eventually come, she had been in preparation for years, and had gathered together a culmination of spells, herbs, and potions that would be their greatest defence against the worst. 

The first night, each of them was filled to the brim with a deep sense of dread. Hoping against hope that their barriers would last and their would be no fear amongst the camp in the morning, or worse, they set to work on casting the strongest safety net around Kahlia they could muster. Their power was worked, and then, they waited. The Queen fell into a deep slumber fast, having soaked up the new world with the desperate eagerness of a small child. 

The wait went on, but all that was heard were a handful of rushed whispers, calls and enchantments to those that often visited her in slumber; her father, her husband, her child. The fever pitch of her nightmare was no more than a strangled groan, nothing compared to the screams of nights before, the power that would roll from her and shake the very walls of a castle centuries old. They were stunned.

In the morning, Kahlia feared the worst, waking in a start to see her mothers and Galdrien before her. Chella was crying quietly, Louell and Nessa smiling. It had worked.

Was it the travel, the exhaustion, the enchantments and magic or a perfect mixture of each? All nights since had been of a similar nature. Some slightly worse, but a scream had not left her lips in an age, a significant achievement. Their preparations had been praised daily by the Queen and the grinning Galdrien, having been witness to her true slumber. The sun seemed to be shining on the great mystery Queen at last.

“It bodes well, my child, for our time in Mirkwood.” Nessa said to the group as Kahlia glanced up at her and smiled. While Nessa had the same beauty as Louell, her features were softer and her eyes ancient and wise, the warmest of browns. Kahlia caught Galdrien’s eye then, and gestured for her to speak, seeing the eagerness written on her face. Kahlia could not remember ever seeing her maiden so happy and so relaxed. It warmed her soul. 

“What of King Thranduil? Have any of you… known him before?” Galdrien said quietly, her gaze bright. Her great scar did not take from her beauty, especially by soft candlelight.

Chella shook her head, a knowing smile spread across her face. “Only our Queen.”

Kahlia set down her pen, having had enough for one night. “And what would you like to know, dear Galdrien? He was but a boy when I knew him.”

“I hear he’s handsome.” Galdrien said, to which Louell choked on her warm ale and the Queen let out a bright laugh in her soft singsong voice. 

“Have you a crush, my maid?” Kahlia teased good-naturedly, revelling the fun and the silly subject. Galdrien shook her head but was laughing openly, and blushing for good measure. The healers chuckled along at the banter.  
“I was to marry him once, you know. I thought him very handsome then.”

“What was he like, my Queen?” Galdrien had come to sit by the soft light now, Kahlia pulling her close like a child. Kahlia stroked her hair lightly as Galdrien rested her head in her lap. There could be no greater honour for Galdrien than the intimacy of this moment, and she knew it, but it felt like a sister doting on another more than the immensity of this great, powerful Queen of myth holding her close. 

“He was very beautiful,” She began, her hand running easily through Galdrien’s yellow, curled locks. A small smile came across her lips as she remembered the young Prince. “He had the same hair as his father, and their sacred family line – of the whitest, purest shade – like starlight. His eyes were a stunning light blue, and his face, well. You could already tell that he was going to be a striking man, when the time came. I wasn’t disappointed.” Kahlia smiled, looking at each of her healers in turn. 

“Was he kind?” Galdrien’s quiet voiced filled the room. Kahlia paused as she thought.

“He was never cruel to me, but kind? Kind didn’t seem to be a part of his nature. He was very serious for a young boy. I suppose the crown weighed heavier on his head than it did on mine.” The Queen sighed. “I felt for him the moment our walls went down and we were ourselves. I liked him when we weren’t putting on a show for the crowd. And so a part of me, even as an Elfling, looked forward to being his Queen.” Speaking such thoughts aloud surprised Kahlia, but the safety of her company and the feel of Galdrien in her arms spurred her on. “He was clever, and strong, already excelling in all things. I was the envy of all the girls during those days.” Galdrien giggled to herself, smiling. 

Kahlia ran her fingers through the young maidens hair again, her smile fading. “But it was not meant to be. The fates intervened.”

After a long silence, it was Galdrien who spoke up, in reserved respect. “Do you look forward to seeing him again?”

The healers watched Kahlia for her reaction, but she smiled down at Galdrien warmly. “More than anything. I hardly know him at all, but still. I know he will call me to a time when life was pure, and innocent, and full of promise.”

Nessa looked at her Queen with a heavy heart at her words. “My child,” She began. “Your life is still full of promise.” Kahlia looked up at her quickly, a half-smile playing across her perfect lips.

“It is now.”

\- - - - -

At breakfast word came ahead with a messenger that Elrond and Legolas were making good time, and so would make camp at the forests edge and await her party's arrival. The news excited her, and so she was more eager than she had been in weeks to greet her great beast Isilme and be on their way. Another restful sleep, the best yet, had also helped to rejuvenate her. While she still experienced the terrors in her dreams and woke with a shudder, her outward actions were no longer as exaggerated or dangerous. 

“You are looking very alive this morning.” Her captain and dear friend Ellieth spoke, his light blonde hair dazzling in the morning sun as he walked with her toward the mass of working Elves and a few hired Blue Mountain dwarves reading the substantial party of Roundruel. 

She practically beamed back at him. “I slept well, very well. And news that my Elrond is at the forest's edge, waiting for me… it feels more real than ever. That we are here, and not at home.” She gestured to the expanse of trees surrounding them, the clear sky above. “I love Roundruel, it is who I am, you know this. But I have always craved an adventure.” 

Ellieth couldn’t help but see an Elf of great youth, almost a resemblance of her former self. Before her family were taken, you could not have found a greater beam of light, a better presence than that of Queen Kahlia. She had exuded and shared great joy wherever she went. The people remembered that Queen, and coveted her, loved her, even when she fell to darkness. The death of a child was too hard for anyone to bear, and the Kingdom mourned and slumbered for decades. While Kahlia had ruled and lead well since, leaving a Kingdom that wanted for nothing, she never returned to life with even a sliver of her former enthusiasm. Her soul, for the most part, had gone.

So to see her now, so spirited and eager, so fearless, the entire company was affected by her mood. Songs were being sung, silly dances performed as work was completed. Soon they were set to start off for another day.

“Let us sap our strength this day, Ellieth, and come close to Rivendell. Another full moon cannot pass without seeing my dear friend in the flesh. It has been too long.” The Queen walked arm in arm with her captain, the head of her guard and her army, as she spoke.

“Ambitious, but how could I ever refuse? We will ride until our eyes are almost set to close.” He replied with a hearty laugh. 

Kahlia smiled as Isilme was brought to her, huffy until he felt the presence of his rider. The news that Elrond was on the horizon, waiting for her, had filled her heart to the brim. His friendship was one of the few blessings she had left, and one of the only who knew her pain from start to end. He had held her close each time she had been forced to be parted with someone, and become her guide and her father-figure in the wake of losing her own. Three great loves, lost. The Queen was irreversibly changed, swept down into a depth that seemed to last an age. At the third strike, life had proven to be unbearable, and so she stepped away from it. He had lead Roundruel and Rivendell in her absence, a service so great she knew she would always be in debt to him in her own mind, but never in his. 

Although Elrond always reminded her of a different time, when joy had known her truly, his presence was still that of safety, unending love and warmth. To know he would be the one to lead her into Mirkwood and into the Kingdom of the Elvenking, she felt the excitement and eagerness of an Elfling.

Life was never still, or sure for Kahlia. Not being able to understand her own body for what seemed to be an eternity and having made little progress before the trip, everything now was moving at a rapid pace. Her healers were the most calm they had been in as long as she had known them, even if their guards would never truly be down. She was proud of them, and warmed by their happiness.

The decision to go on this great journey, so far, seemed to have been a great success. She looked to the heavens, thanking her family, using her silent prayers to her child to give thanks for her guidance. The Queen never spoke openly about her daughter, Allihah, in honest fear that an outburst would bring down her façade. She didn’t expect a day would ever come where she could be mentioned by her own mouth without tears and loss of control to follow, or worse, and had come to peace with this by forbidding her name in her presence. The people in a special ceremony celebrated Allihah each year, her birthday, a celebration that Ellieth would command in the Queen’s absence. That day and the anniversary of her child’s death, Kahlia had to be locked away, for safety alone. 

While the great weight of loss never left Kahlia, this day, and she hoped the ones to come, she felt more alive than ever. For the first time hope bloomed in her chest; the smallest flower opening to the light, still surrounded by the heavy hand of grief and death. 

The promise of a new horizon each day was a brighter light than she had ever known in an age of darkness.


End file.
